Thicker Than Blood
by Flagg1991
Summary: After Lincoln discovers he is adopted, he struggles to cope – with the help of his sisters. Just when he begins coming to terms, however, a second, even more shocking secret is revealed...and it might just change everything. Cover by Raganoxer.
1. A Family Secret

**Includes lyrics to** _ **Girls Just Want to Have Fun**_ **by Cyndi Lauper (1983)**

* * *

Lincoln Loud hated mornings...Monday morning, Thursday morning, Sunday morning...he and they just didn't mix.

Especially Friday mornings.

See, the thing about Friday mornings is this: You're so close to the weekend you can smell it, but you have one more long, boring day until you get there. Somewhere, he saw a documentary about Alcatraz, the notorious island prison off San Francisco, and one thing that stuck with him (really the only thing) was a man (a former prisoner?) saying that when the wind blew just right, the inmates could smell the popcorn and hotdogs from stands along the boardwalk, and could hear the sounds of people laughing and enjoying the freedom that they themselves could not have. That was Friday morning for Lincoln. Freedom was in sight...but there was a choppy, shark infested bay between here and there.

On that Friday morning in late September, Lincoln rolled out of bed at 6:30, fifteen minutes after his alarm clock first sounded. He was light-headed, his knees were weak, and whenever he tried to open his eyes, they fluttered closed again. Even though it was by no means cold in the house, his shivered when the air touched his skin, hot from the warmth he'd created under the covers. In the hall, he scratched his butt and tried to pry his eyes open, but to no avail. Oh well. He'd done this blind so many times he didn't need to see.

"Uh-oh, girls, it's alive," Luan said, a smile in her voice, and Lincoln rolled his eyes. Have you ever heard it said that someone is a 'zombie' in the morning? Well, Lincoln had...in fact, he heard it every day. His sisters would treat him like one: They would scream and run around in circles and beg him not to eat their brains. It got old quick.

Lincoln took a shuffling step forward.

"It's coming for our brains!" Luna cried. "Run!"

A chorus of girlish screams went up, and Lincoln opened his eyes to slits: Lola, Luna, Luan, and Lana ran around with their arms in the air like a bunch of fools. Just ignore them, Linc; they'll stop.

Managing to keep his eyes open just enough to see, he ambled over to where he figured the line ended and stood still while his sisters yelled and ran around him.

"Could you please knock it off?" Lisa asked. She was standing in her doorway with an annoyed expression on her face. "Your ear-piercing wails are exacerbating my headache."

The screaming stopped and everyone fell back into line. "Maybe you shouldn't have stayed up all night again," Luna said. "You gotta get your sleep, dude."

"I slept," Lisa said as she fell into line behind Lincoln. "Just not very much. I spent most of the night categorizing yours, Lori's, and Leni's DNA samples. It sounds simple, I know, but data entry is extremely time consuming."

The bathroom door opened, and Leni came out, a towel wrapped around her head. "All done," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. Luna went in and closed the door behind her.

"That reminds me, Lincoln, I need a DNA sample from you. And from you and Lana too, Lola."

"Why do you even need our DNA?" Lola asked haughtily as she crossed her arms. "Are you making some kind of weird clones or something?"

"No," Lisa said with strained patience, "having your DNA on file is useful for many things. My primary reason for wanting a sample from each of you, however, is for an experiment I've been working on in which I hope to achieve the same tissue growth spurred by stem cells without actually using stem cells, as for some reason stem cell research is frowned upon by many despite its promising potential."

Lola turned around and raised an eyebrow.

Lisa sighed. "Just spit in a cup. Is that really so much to ask?"

"Whatever."

"Great," Lisa said, getting out of line. "Might as well do it now."

While she went into her room to retrieve a cup for each of them, Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back, a rush of vertigo pushing his stomach into his throat. He was really looking forward to tomorrow morning...when he could sleep late. Really, sleeping in was one of the best parts of the weekend.

"Lincoln," Lisa said, startling him. He opened his eyes; she was standing next to him and holding a small plastic cup. Lincoln sighed, bent, and spat into it. "Thank you," she said, and moved onto Lana. By the time she was done, she had lost her spot to Lynn, who grabbed Lincoln's shoulders and squeezed as hard as she could.

"Lincy!" she cried. "How ya doin'?"

"Ow! I was doing fine until you came along."

She rubbed his shoulders hard, and his knees buckled. "You look like you needed a wakeup call."

The door opened and Luna came out. Lola went in.

By the time his turn came, Lincoln's shoulders were sore and red and he had to pee so badly that he could hardly move. You know...their house was pretty big...how in the name of God was there only one bathroom? Sure, there was the one in Mom and Dad's room (not that that helped him), but that was it. Didn't big houses usually have a third one hanging around in the basement or off the kitchen or something? And if not...why didn't Lisa and Lana team up and construct another bathroom instead of fooling around with frogs and DNA?

He stripped off his briefs, hopped into the shower, and turned the water as hot as he could stand. He was starting to wake up now, and the world was looking better. It was Friday and in just a few short hours he would be free for the weekend. He whistled a light, airy tune as he lathered up; having two whole days of free time was like a godsend after a long, hard week of school. What would he do? Ride bikes with Clyde? Go to the arcade with Ronnie Anne?

A tiny smile touched his face when he thought of Ronnie Anne. He really liked her...like like-liked her. He thought she liked him too, but she had this weird thing about not being 'mushy-gushy' that prevented her from coming out and saying it. Sure, the kind of cutesy crap Bobby and Lori did was yuck, but there's nothing mushy-gushy about admitting you like someone, right? He didn't think so. Maybe his line in the sand was a little farther back than hers. Who knows? Their relationship was kind of stalled because of it...but Lincoln wasn't blameless, since he hadn't worked up the courage to be forward either; he beat around the bush or ignored the bush entirely. Soon, he told himself, he'd suck it up, corner her, and give her no choice but to answer one way or another: Is you is or is you ain't my baby?

When he was done, he cut the spray, grabbed his towel, and hurriedly dried. He pulled his undies back on and opened the door. Before he could even take a step, Lynn shoved him aside. "Outta the way, Linco, I gotta piss!"

He hurriedly closed the door just as she started to yank down her shorts. Jeez, Lynn!

In his room, he dressed for the day and went downstairs, where Lori, Leni, Luna, Luan, Lucy, Lola, Lana, and Lisa were eating breakfast. "I take it Lynn is in the bathroom," Lisa said as he passed the table.

"Yep," he said.

"Good," Lisa said. "I still haven't gone and I need to rather badly."

In the kitchen, an army of cereal boxes marched across the counter. He grabbed one and shook it. Empty. He grabbed the next. Also empty. Oh, let me guess; yep, the third one was empty too. The last was almost full, which told him one thing: It sucked.

He picked it up and looked at it. Grape Nuts.

Called it.

His stomach grumbled.

Shaking his head, he grabbed a bowl, poured some of the awful stuff into it, and then topped it with milk. He carried his bowl into the dining room and sat next to Lucy. He couldn't help but note that her bowl was full of the same drek his was.

"You too?" he asked.

"Unfortunately," she sighed.

"At least I'm not alone."

"You know what they say: Misery loves company."

"Speaking of misery," Lori said, and looked at Luan. "Is your comedy show still happening tonight?"

Luan shook her head. "Nope. It was canceled."

"Oh, thank God."

Luan's face darkened.

"I can barely tolerate one mediocre so-called comedian," Lisa said, "I don't think I could have handled a dozen of them."

"The funniest thing about those shows is that people actually pay to see them," Luna said, her eyes dancing with malicious glee.

"You're a bunch of bitches," Luan said tightly.

Each morning in the Loud house, someone got roasted. It was a family tradition that stretched back as far as Lincoln could remember: Lori, Leni, and Luna sitting around the table and calling each other "boogerheads" and insulting each other's favorite cartoon. Sometimes it was funny...sometimes it was plain vicious. It was all in good fun, though.

"Luan's so bad the only way she could get a reaction from the audience is if she flashed them," Lola said.

"Yeah," Leni said, "and the reaction would, like, be 'Why doesn't that girl have tits?'"

Everyone laughed, even Lincoln. Luan's face turned crimson and she whipped her head away from them.

"Her tits are almost as small as Lincoln's nuts," Lynn said, coming in. She wrapped one arm around Lincoln's neck and ground her knuckles into his scalp. Lincoln cried out and tried to pull away, but she held him tighter.

"Knock it off!" he cried.

She released him, then did the same to Lucy. "Ow," Lucy said impassively.

"You're one to talk, Lynn," Luan said. "I've seen your chest. Lincoln's tits are bigger than yours."

Lynn shrugged. "Eh, tits are overrated." She grabbed Luan's orange juice and lifted it to her lips.

"Hey!"

Lynn drained it and sat it back down. "They just get in the way when you're running." She bopped Luan on the top of the head and danced away when Luan turned to swat at her. "Gotta be quicker than that, chuckles," Lynn laughed as she went into the kitchen.

My family is crazy, Lincoln thought, but grinned fondly, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

* * *

Lori Loud was not the smartest girl in the world. Oh, she wasn't stupid, but sometimes things kind of...slipped her mind. They usually came back, though...eventually. That Friday afternoon, she was sitting on a bench outside the Tastee-Freez and waiting for Bobby when something started to niggle the back of her mind, something important. She furrowed her brow and tried to coax whatever it was forward, but it remained in the shadows of her gray matter, dancing a mocking little jig just out of reach. Was she forgetting something? She thought back over her day. She had homework, but she did that during study hall...that was it. She literally couldn't think of anything else. Hm.

She crossed her legs and watched the cars passing on Main Street. There was a Prius...a Ford...a panel van with FREE CANDY written across the side...

Wait.

She leaned forward and watched the van pass. On its back doors was FREE PUPPIES TOO. Okay, wow. _Someone_ had a sick sense of humor. She lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled. It was kind of funny, though.

Shaking her head, she glanced at the phone in her lap. No texts. Where are you, Boo-Boo-Bear? You were supposed to be here five minutes ago! She pouted and rested her chin in her palm.

Niggle-niggle.

Alright, she was forgetting something major. What was it? Was she supposed to get something from the store? Did she leave something at school? She checked her pockets and her purse. Nope. Everything important was present and accounted for. Was she supposed to pick someone up somewhere? She went through the mental list of her siblings. Lucy? Nope. Linc? Nope. Lynn? Nope. Luna? Nope. The twins? Nope. Hm.

Brain fart. Had to be.

She glanced down at her phone. Still no texts. Sighing, she grabbed her Coke from the table behind her, slipped the straw into her mouth, and sipped. In the street, a red sports car zipped by, a black man behind the wheel and looking like he was having a seizure. Loud music blasted from the speakers:

 _That's all they really want_

 _Some fun_

 _When the working day is done_

 _Oh girls, they wanna have fun_

Lori giggled. Dude was really getting it too. In fact, he was even now throwing both arms into the air and waving them back and forth. She covered her mouth and laughed hard. Gee, the things you see when you just sit down and people watch. She had a reputation for always having her nose buried in her phone (and she kind of earned it), but she liked putting it aside every now and then and observing the world. It could be really funny sometimes. Just the other day, she caught Mr. Johnson, the high school janitor, dancing around in the hall like John Travolta in _Saturday Night Fever_ , pumping his hips and pointing and everything.

Niggle.

Sigh. This was starting to literally get on her last nerve. What was she forgetting? Whatever it was, it was pretty serious, and it really bothered her that she couldn't remember it. She was the oldest, she was supposed to be responsible. Alright. She closed her eyes and went through her entire day step-by-step, whipping out a figurative magnifying glass and getting down on her hands and knees like a character in an old cartoon. Try as she may, though, she couldn't find what she was looking for.

"Hey, babe."

Lori's eyes flew open and she smiled as Bobby walked up.

"Hey," she said happily, the niggle in the back of her brain forgotten. He bent and they kissed, their tongues softly caressing one another.

"Sorry I'm late," he said and sat, "the bus was behind."

"That's okay," Lori said, turning to him, "I don't mind."

Well...she kind of did...but only because she was excited to hear what he had to say: His text said he had something important to tell her.

He smiled at her and took her hands in his, a simple gesture that always made her heart race. He drew a sigh. "I got a letter on Saturday," he said, "from the University of West Virginia."

Lori's heart dropped. Bobby had been applying to colleges all summer, with the University of West Virginia being his first choice. She had already been accepted to the University of Mary Washington in Virginia, and had been silently hoping that Bobby would be too. They had an understanding, though: If he was accepted to WVU, he would go. Lori knew even before he spoke what he was going to say.

"I'm in."

He grinned.

Hot tears rose in Lori's eyes, but she blinked them back and forced a smile. "That's great," she said, thankful that her voice was even. Bobby wanted this so bad, and she didn't want to ruin it for him.

"I'm really stoked," he said, and held her hand tighter, his fingers slipping through hers. "Their track and field program is badass."

Bobby had been running track and field since 9th grade. He was really good. The best Royal County had.

"And it's not all that far from UMW," he said, "we can totally see each other on weekends."

She opened her mouth to point out that neither one of them would have transportation, but she closed it again. Don't bring him down, Lori...he needs you to be supportive. "Yeah," she said, "I'm so happy for you, Bobby. You'll literally be the best runner they have."

He chuckled and shrugged. "What can I say? I'm Mexican, running and jumping is in my DNA."

Lori started to laugh, but that niggle at the back of her mind exploded and consumed her brain in hot, throbbing revelation...and her heart dropped into her stomach. "Oh, shit."

Bobby's brow furrowed. "You okay?"

"I gotta go," she said, ripped her hands out of his, and jumped up.

Oh, shit, oh shit, oh shit...

* * *

Lincoln Loud came through the door at 3:22pm, almost an hour after school let out. It usually took him no more than fifteen minutes to walk the mile from Royal Woods Elementary home, but today he and Ronnie Anne hung out on the playground after the final bell. Call him mushy, but he really enjoyed spending time with her...it didn't matter if they were playing a video game, doing homework, sitting side-by-side on the swings like they did today, or each on their own phone and not talking. Just having her nearby was enough to make him happy.

All during their time together, he tried to work up the courage to ask her what they were...friends or more...but he couldn't. That was a complication for another day...this afternoon he just wanted to be with her.

"Hey, lame-o," she said, scuffing her feet in the mulch.

"Yeah?"

She fixed him with a half-grin. "I bet I can go higher than you."

"You think?"

She nodded. "I know."

Lincoln pulled himself back and swung forward. "Let's see."

They both rocked back and forth, the swing set's metal frame creaking and shaking. She giggled and he couldn't help but do the same. "We're gonna break it!" she cried.

"Gotta happen to someone!"

"Not us!"

"Admit defeat, then!"

"Not gonna happen!"

He swung higher than she did...but he let her have the win. Afterwards, they walked together. "You know," she said at one point, "I'm not looking forward to middle school next year."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"Because they don't have recess."

Aw, right. Shoot. He knew they didn't have recess because all of his older sisters had told him at one point or another, but it was so traumatizing that he blanked it out. Okay, it wasn't that, he just forgot. He was eleven and had been going to school for a long time, and recess had always been a part of his day. A major part. How did middle and high schoolers make it through without blowing off some steam at recess?

"That's growing up, I guess," he said, glancing shyly at her. The warm September wind rippled her shiny black hair.

She shrugged. "I guess. Growing up kind of sucks, doesn't it?"

He thought for a minute. "Kind of. You get to do things like drive and go to R rated movies, so it's not all bad."

She giggled. "I guess not."

When they reached his house, they faced each other awkwardly. "I'll see you this weekend, maybe?" he asked.

She nodded. "Maybe."

The sudden urge to lean in and kiss her came over him. Instead, he smiled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck; he was pretty sure she wasn't ready for that yet. "Well...later," he said.

"See ya."

He nodded, then went up the walkway, fighting the urge to look back for one last glimpse. He resisted that temptation.

Ronnie Anne, on the other hand, didn't. She watched him until he was inside, a tiny smile on her face, then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and started home.

Lincoln did not know that as he climbed the stairs, his hand trailing the banister. He had a comic book calling his name, and maybe a little Call of Honor later on.

He reached the second floor just as a loud crash filled the house...it sounded like something glass exploded into a million pieces. Lynn and Lana darted out of Lana and Lola's room, both of them looking like kids who had just destroyed a prized family heirloom. "You bitches!" Lola roared, and shot out into the hall, her fists balled. Lincoln had never seen Lynn and Lana look so scared in their lives; they yelled, bumped into each other like the 3 Stooges, and ducked into Lisa's room. "I'm going to kill you!"

Lola stormed forward, and Lincoln hurried after, throwing a glance into Lola and Lana's room: Lola's vanity lay on the floor, the mirror shattered. Uh-oh.

"What was that?" Lucy asked, startling him. She was leaning out of her room.

"Lynn and Lana broke Lola's vanity," he said, "and Lola's about to break them." He brushed past Lucy and went into Lisa's room, where Lola had Lynn and Lana backed into a corner: The two vanity-breaking-bandits hugged each other and shook. Lisa stood by her printer as a long ream of paper spat out, her lips a tight, irritated slash.

"You broke my vanity!" Lola screamed.

"We're sorry!" Lana wailed.

"I-It was an accident!" Lynn moaned

Lola started forward, and Lincoln grabbed her. "Whoa, Lo, settle down."

She spun in his arms and fixed him with a withering gaze. "They broke my vanity! It's ruined! Gone...all gone!"

"It was an accident," Lincoln said, "calm down. They'll buy you a new one."

"Y-Yeah!" Lana said. "A better one!"

"I knew that vanity wasn't long for this world," Lucy said. "I'll act as mortician."

Suddenly everyone was talking over each other. Lisa shook her head and scanned the paper coming out of the printer. "Can you please stop?" she asked, but no one listened. "Siblings! Please, stop!"

Still, no one listened.

"I said shut up, goddamn it!"

Everyone froze and looked at her. Luan and Luna were at the doorway now, both with worried looks.

Lisa took a deep, fuming breath. "I don't know what happened nor do I care. I am in the middle of something important, and I would appreciate it if all of you left my room posthaste."

She glanced down at the paper, and something caught her eye. "Hm...that's not right."

Everyone looked at each other. "Should we start running?" Lola asked. Usually when Lisa said something 'wasn't right,' an explosion was imminent. Instead of replying, Lisa adjusted her glasses and held the paper closer, her brow furrowing.

"What's wrong?" Luan asked.

Lisa ignored her. "Hm..."

"What?" Lynn asked. She and Lana were still hugging each other. When they realized this, they pulled apart.

"Lincoln's DNA is different," Lisa said absently, not even aware that she was speaking. "It doesn't match any of ours." She froze when she realized the gravity of what she was saying.

Luna and Luan exchanged a nervous glance. It totally slipped their minds the way it had with Lori.

"W-What are you saying?" Lincoln asked, his arms dropping and his face turning pale.

For the first time in her life, Lisa didn't know what to say. She glanced down at the paper, and it was clear as the nose on the end of her face: Lincoln's DNA did not match any of their siblings.

"You're not related to us."

Everyone looked at Lincoln. His face was the color of milk now and his knees were shaking. "No, that's not right..."

"Hey, bro," Luna said and came forward, her eyes filled with worry. She laid her hand on his shoulder, but he didn't seem to notice. "Look..."

Luan gasped as Lori shoved her aside and stumbled into the room, her face red and her breathing short. One glance around the room told her that she was too late, and her heart dropped.

"He knows," Luan said.

Lori put her hand to her forehead; it was trembling. "Oh, God..."

"I-I'm sorry," Lisa said, stricken, "I-I-I didn't know, I –"

Lori snapped. "You and you're stupid goddamn experiments!" She slammed her open palm against the doorframe.

Luna squeezed Lincoln's shoulder. "Look, man, it's..." she didn't know what to say either; she never expected this to come out.

"I'm adopted?" he asked, his voice shaky.

Luna threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. "You're our brother," she said, "that's what you are."

No one else spoke as Lincoln began to sob.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I'll keep this short: I've always believed that stories where Lincoln is adopted are a tad cliché, but I decided to try my hand at one, and I'm pretty happy with the results. As far as I'm concerned, it might be my best story yet. I hope you enjoy.**


	2. Fallout

**Guest: Yes, my last two stories were much shorter than usual. This story will not be.**

 **BoukenDutch: A couple people have mentioned "Not A Loud"...and I had no idea what they were talking about until your comment. I haven't heard of it, but it certainly seems to imply Lincoln might be adopted.**

 **Dread55: The story is done. Written, I mean. All that's left to do is proofread and post.**

* * *

Of all the days of the week, Rita Loud liked Friday the least. Fridays at the dentist's office were a nightmarish blur of patients all squeezing in for their chance in the chair before the weekend. By the end of the day, she was emotionally and mentally exhausted, and her butt hurt from sitting at the reception desk all day, since she usually didn't get to take a lunch like she did on other days...could barely even break to use the bathroom. It wasn't so bad when there was another receptionist on duty, but the last girl who had the job was a pill head who'd nod off at the desk, and they couldn't have that, so for the last three months, Rita had been alone. The only upside was the two dollar raise Dr. Jacobs gave her, and even that was barely enough of an upside to make up for the horrendous workload.

At roughly four 'o'clock that afternoon, she was scheduling a follow-up appointment for Mrs. Dandy (nice old lady...but her teeth were a disgusting tobacco brown, and just looking at her turned Rita's stomach) when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

"Alright," Rita said, handing Mrs. Dandy an appointment card, "November 7 at 2pm."

Mrs. Dandy smiled, revealing even more of her rotten teeth, "Thank you, dear. How is your family?"

"They're doing good," Rita said. "Lynn is captain of the football team this year and Lincoln's been working on his drawing more. He's very good." She unconsciously glanced at the sheet of computer paper taped to the edge of the counter: It was a drawing Lincoln did of her a couple weeks ago. It wasn't quite like looking in a mirror, but it was good, and she smiled every time she looked at it. He was going to be a very fine artist one day, and she was extremely proud of him.

"That's nice," Mrs. Dandy said. "My son drew when he was younger. All sorts of things. Rocket ships and spacemen and the like." The old woman laughed. "He's an investment banker in Arizona now."

"Oh, wow," Rita said. Mrs. Dandy had already told her this...multiple times...but Rita always played along. "He must be doing very well for himself."

"Very well," Mrs. Dandy replied with a nod, "in fact, I think he's a multi-millionaire. I've never asked, and he's never told me. I'm proud of him regardless."

"I know the feeling."

"You have a good day, dear."

"You too, Mrs. Dandy."

When the old woman was gone, Rita snuck in a bathroom break and then grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in the dayroom. When she got back to the desk, Mrs. Henderson, who taught at the middle school, was waiting with her teenaged daughter...was it Cindi or Cynthia? Rita could never remember.

"Hi," Mrs. Henderson said happily.

"Hi," Rita replied, then looked at Cindi-or-Cynthia, "the braces are coming off today...?"

Cindi-or-Cynthia nodded shyly. She was a tall, gangly girl with lank black hair, eyes too big for her face, and a fresh smattering of acne across her too narrow cheeks.

"Finally," Mrs. Henderson said with a sigh of relief. "How much longer until Luan's come off?"

"A year, I think," Rita said after a moment of thought.

"She seems to have adjusted well," Mrs. Henderson replied, and glanced at her daughter. "This one, on the other hand, never did. It's been a nightmare."

"Well, the nightmare ends today," Rita said, signing them in. "You can have a seat."

"Thank you," Mrs. Henderson said, and she and Cindi-or-Cynthia sat in the waiting room.

She was shuffling a stack of papers when Dr. Jacobs came in. "Is my four 'o'clock here?" he asked. He was a tall man with a bald pate, dyed black hair on either side, and glasses.

Rita checked the list, then scanned the waiting room. "No."

Dr. Jacobs sighed. "Who's next then?"

Rita checked the list again. "Cynthia Henderson."

"Alright. Send her in."

Rita laid her hands on the desk and half stood. "Cynthia, honey?"

Cynthia looked up.

"You can go in now."

Rita sat down, and her phone buzzed again; she had completely forgotten it buzzed in the first place.

Her children knew not to text her while she was at work unless it was an emergency. She reached into her lab coat, pulled it out, and opened it. She had two texts from Lori. Probably something to do with the mall or needing money. Rita opened them and read, her heart leaping into her throat.

"Lincoln knows he's adopted."

Then:

"He's really upset."

Rita read and reread those two texts a dozen times, her chest throbbing and her vision blurring. Oh, no. She went to her contacts, found Lori's number and called it, holding the phone to her ear and drumming her fingers impatiently on the desk, her breathing ragged. No, no, no, no, no...

Lori answered on the fifth ring. "Hello?"

"What happened?" Rita demanded before Lori had even finished talking.

"Lisa," Lori said, stumbling over her words, "she's doing some stupid DNA thing and everyone was there and Lincoln's all messed up and I don't know what to do." She started to cry. "I don't know what to do, Mom."

Rita sighed, her own eyes misting. "J-Just wait for me. Give him space. I'll try to leave as soon as I can."

"Okay."

Rita hung up the phone; her fingers were trembling so badly that she dropped it on the desk. She hoped that this day would never come...she'd prayed that it never came...and here it was. Sudden rage flashed through her, and she swiped the phone off the desk; it slammed into a filing cabinet and dropped to the floor. She pushed away from the desk, got up, and went to examine room three, opening the door without knocking: Cynthia Henderson was sitting in the chair and Dr. Jacobs was standing over her with his hands behind his back. Mrs. Henderson was sitting across the room. They all looked at her when she entered.

"Dr., I hate to do this, but there's a crisis at home, and I need to go."

Dr. Jacobs' brow furrowed. "Is everything okay?"

Rita started to speak, but tears flooded her eyes and if she opened her mouth, they would burst forth, so she sucked her lips in and shook her head.

"Go on," Dr. Jacobs said, "I'll see you Monday...if you can make it."

She nodded and went back into the hall, closing the door behind her. On her way outside, she found Lynn Sr.'s number and called it. When he answered, she was crossing Main Street. "Hey, honey, what's up?"

"Where are you?" she asked. She glanced down the road and saw the city bus coming. She quickened her step.

"I'm at Bob's, we just finished patching up a few holes in the kitchen."

Bob Atkins was a contractor Lynn had known since high school. Occasionally he would bring Lynn in on renovation jobs (mainly those 'flip this house' projects) for extra cash.

Rita licked her lips and took a deep breath. "Lincoln...Lincoln knows."

Tense silence filled the line. "Knows?"

"That he's adopted."

For a moment Lynn didn't reply, and Rita could almost hear him grasping for words. "How?" he finally asked.

"Apparently something Lisa did having to do with DNA."

"Shit," Lynn muttered.

"Lori says he's upset. I'm on my way home now. How soon can you be there?"

"Uh...I don't know...ten minutes?"

"Okay," she said, "please...he needs us."

"I know," he said heavily, "I know."

* * *

As it happened, Rita got home before Lynn. Maybe it was her imagination, but the atmosphere when she walked through the front door was dark and oppressive; she caught her breath and shuddered. You could feel the sadness.

She threw her purse carelessly onto the end table and went up the stairs. At the top, she found Lynn, Lucy, and Lori clustered in front of Luna and Luan's door. Lori was the first to turn and see her; the girl's eyes were red and watery. "Thank God," she said, and Lynn turned. Her face was ashy and her brow was troubled. Lucy looked like she always did, save for the slight stoop of her shoulders.

"Where is he?" Rita asked as she came over.

"In there," Lori said.

Rita brushed past her and Lynn. Lincoln was sitting on the edge of Luna's bed, his head bowed and his fingers threaded through his hair. Luna was on one side and Luan was on the other, one patting his back and the other rubbing it. Leni sat at his feet and watched him with a worried expression. Lana and Lola were sitting cross-legged against Luan's bed, both looking lost.

When Rita saw her son's miserable posture, her heart shattered. She went to him and knelt, cupping his cheek in her hand. He looked up at her: His eyes shimmered with tears, hurt, and confusion. She broke down and pressed her forehead to his.

"I love you," she said simply, "I love you so much, Lincoln."

"I-I love you too," he replied dazedly. "I'm okay, I-I just...it was a-a shock."

Rita put her arms around his neck and hugged him close. "I know, honey," she said through her tears, "and I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I-I'm sorry you had to find out at all."

"We love you just the same, Linc," Luan said solemnly and rubbed deeper, as though she could transmit her love directly into him, "you've always been our brother and you'll always be our brother."

"The best little bro ever," Luna said, and leaned the side of her face against his back. "I thank God every day you're here."

"You're my Lincy," Leni said and patted his knee, "and, like, that's all that matters."

Lincoln took a deep breath. "I love you guys," he said. "I'm sorry for making such a scene. I should have handled it better."

"Nah, dude, you did great," Luna said, then didn't know how to continue. "It's a pretty heavy trip to lay on someone."

Rita held her son at arm's length and looked into his wounded eyes. "Lincoln...we love you just the same. Please don't ever for a minute think that we don't. You're one of the most precious things in the world to us."

Lincoln nodded slowly...then started to cry again, his shoulders shaking as high pitched sobs burst from his trembling lips. Rita drew him close and stroked the back of his head just like she did when he was a baby and was fussy.

Luna and Luan huddled closer, and Leni rested her head against his leg, her eyes red-rimmed and leaking. She wasn't very bright, she knew that, but she was smart enough to know how bad Lincy would hurt if he ever found out he was adopted, so over the past eleven years, she had taken great pains to keep from letting it slip. It almost happened a few times, once at his eighth birthday party; it came so close that she literally gasped, and when she was alone, she pulled her own hair until tears streamed down her face. She heard somewhere that mice can, like, be made to associate certain things with pain, and she wanted to associate almost letting it slip with pain so she wouldn't do it again...it must have worked, because that was the last time it happened.

Luna blinked back her own tears and stroked Lincoln's quivering back as their mother shhhhed him. She wanted a little brother so bad when she was young, and the day they brought him home was the happiest of her life...and still was, come to think of it. She remembered looking into the car seat with wide eyes at the small, pink thing snuggled in a mass of blankets, a tiny little tuft of white hair on top of its otherwise bald head. "That's ours?" she asked with wonder.

"Yep," Dad said proudly, "that's your brother Lincoln."

"We can keep him?" she looked up at Dad.

"Forever and ever," Dad confirmed.

"Wow." She knelt next to him, and in that moment he yawned and opened his eyes; they were brown and bright and beautiful.

"Now I need you to make me a promise," Dad said, putting his hand on Luna's shoulder. "I need you to be a good big sister to Lincoln."

"I will, daddy," Luna said, "I promise I'll be the best big sister ever."

"I know you will, sweetie...would you like to hold him?"

Luna's eyes got big. "Can I? Please? Please?"

She sat with her back against the couch while Dad unbuckled Lincoln and took him out; he curled up in a little ball and made a cute fussing noise. "Be very careful," Dad said and he sat Lincoln in her lap. Luna marveled at the tiny bundle. "I'm Luna," she said, "and I'm going to be your new big sister."

Mom and Dad laughed. Dad took a picture, Luna looking up and smiling widely, and it hung on the living room wall to this day.

"I love you," she whispered now and rubbed her brother's back.

On his other side, Luan did likewise, remembering how jealous she was when he came home. Everyone paid so much attention to him and none to her; she did not like little Lincoln. One night, she couldn't sleep, so she got up and went into her parents' room. Lincoln's bassinet was next to the bed, and Luan went over to it and glared at him. "I wish you never came here," she whispered.

He was lying on his back with his arms over his head, his mitten-covered hands balled into tiny fists. He snorted in his sleep and then cooed softly. He was kind of cute...but no, he was an attention hog.

Then he stirred and his eyes came open, fixing on hers. For a minute, neither moved, then he smiled and reached for her with a soft gurgle.

Luan loved him from that moment on.

By the door, Lori glanced away from the scene before her and took a deep breath. This was her fault...she should have known something like this would happen the moment Lisa started talking about taking DNA samples. It just didn't register. It might sound weird, but sometimes she almost completely forgot that Lincoln was adopted; he'd been a part of her life – and a major part – for such a long time that he was family. Period. It was always somewhere in the back of her mind, the way it was always in the back of her mind that the sky was blue, but it rarely ever came forward, and why would it?

She flashed back to the day Mom and Dad told her they were adopting him. She vividly remembered sitting in the back seat with her arms crossed sullenly. "I don't want a brother," she said.

"Aw, honey," Mom glanced into the rearview mirror, "just wait until you meet him. He's the cutest little thing ever."

"Why does he have to live with us?"

"Well," Dad said cautiously, "his mommy can't take care of him. She...wasn't very nice to him."

Lori blinked. "His mommy was mean to him?"

"Yes," Dad said.

"Why?" Lori asked, her heart suddenly clutching. The idea of a mommy being mean disturbed her to no end.

"She's sick, honey," Mom said, "so we're going to take care of him."

Lori still wasn't sure...then she saw him, a tiny thing with a wrinkled face and dark eyes, a little patch of white hair on top of his head. There was an ugly purple mark above his right eye. "What's that?" Lori asked.

"That's a bruise," Mom said, and Lori gasped.

"Did his mommy do it?" she asked, turning to her parents.

They exchanged a solemn look. "Yes," Mom finally said.

Lori turned back to Lincoln. "Poor baby." She reached out and stroked his head. "You're gonna live with us and we'll _never_ hurt you..."

But they did...over a spot in the van or a slice of fucking pizza. How many fights had they all gotten into? How many times had Lincoln walked away from a sibling throwdown with cuts and scrapes and bruises just like the one his bitch of a mother left on his head? Too many, Lori realized now, and began to cry in earnest. "I'm a shit sister," she moaned, and turned away, melting into her father as he put his arms around her.

"Hey," he said softly, "no you're not. You're a great sister, honey."

"I'm awful," she wept.

"Shhhh," he said and stroked her hair. "No more. You've been everything we could have hoped for."

Lori buried her face into his chest and tried to catch her runaway emotions. She remembered all the times she'd yelled at him, or ignored him, or mistreated him, or used him...she didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing that she saw only her dorky little brother when she looked at him, and not the malnourished, bruise covered baby he once was.

She blinked her eyes and drew a deep, watery breath. "I'm okay," she muttered, even though she wasn't. She pulled away. "I just...need to be alone."

"You're sure you're okay?" Dad asked.

Lori nodded and wiped her eyes.

When she was gone, Lynn Sr. sighed and looked into Luna and Luan's room. Luna and Luan both rested their heads on Lincoln's back, Leni rested hers on his leg, and Rita held him tight, rocking him from side to side. The crying had stopped, and he was still. Lynn glanced away and fought back the tears filling his eyes. He knew that this day would likely come, and he had been dreading it for eleven years. He and Rita planned to tell Lincoln one day...when he was an adult...or maybe they wouldn't. He didn't have to know; would good would knowing do?

Except for...

They would probably tell him, but not now...he was a child...a sensitive child...and Lynn knew the types of things a sensitive child would feel if they found out they were adopted...he didn't want his son to go through that pain...not until he was older at least.

Heavy of heart, Lynn went into the room and knelt next to his wife, unsure of what to do, unsure of what he _could_ do. He rested his hand on her back, then wrapped his free arm around Lincoln's neck. They were cheek-to-cheek.

"Do you know how proud I am that you're my son?" he asked. "I couldn't have asked for a better one. Your mother and I love you very much. Never doubt that."

"I-I love you too, d-d-dad."

Lynn pulled away and glanced around the room. Lola and Lana looked like they didn't know what to do with themselves, Lynn leaned against the wall and stared at her shoes, and Lucy stood off to one side with her hands behind her back. "I think we need to have a family meeting," he said.

Fifteen minutes later, all ten of the Loud children were jammed together on the couch. Mom and Dad sat on the coffee table, Mom holding Lilly in her arms. Lori stole a worried glance at Lincoln, who sat between Leni and Luna, both of whom were touching him, Luna his arm and Leni his leg. His eyes were red and puffy, but he was no longer crying. Lori longed to reach out and lay her hand on his shoulder or the top of his head, but Lucy, Lynn, Lola, Lana, and Lisa separated them, the latter with her head bowed and her arms crossed over her chest. When she came into the living room, Lori took grim satisfaction in the fact that her eyes were just as swollen as Lincoln's.

"I think it would be nice," Mom said, "if we started by sharing our favorite memory of Lincoln." She looked at Luan, who was sitting at the opposite end of the couch from Lori. Her eyes widened nervously. "I-I don't know," she stammered. "There are so many." She furrowed her brow in contemplation. "I-I cherish every memory I have of him." She smiled weakly but genuinely. "He's always there for me when I need him. I-I know I can always count on him."

Rita looked at Luna. "The same, really," she said. "I guess...I guess when we went to see Smooch and you and Clyde wound up in the mall jail for buying scalped tickets, so I dressed up like Mom and tried to bust you out but wound up right next to you because Bobby's an idiot." She legitimately laughed.

Rita's brows shot up. "You _what?_ "

Luna smiled nervously and lifted her shoulders. "It all worked out in the end." She squeezed Lincoln's arm and glanced at him. "That was fun, right?"

Lincoln nodded, a ghost of a smile flitting across his face. "It was."

Rita looked at Leni, who brightened. "Totes when Lincy helped me learn to drive." She creased her brow and looked at Lori. "Then that one ruined it. All Lincy's hard work down the drain." She shook her head as Lori hugged herself tighter.

Lisa was next. She looked up, a stricken expression on her face. Instead of replying, she leaned forward and looked at her brother across Leni's lap. "Lincoln," she started, a note of desperation in her voice, "I am so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything...it just came out. I was thinking aloud. Please, I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to cause this. I didn't mean to hurt you." Here she started to cry; she pushed her fingers under her glasses. "Lincoln...I'm so, so sorry." Leni wrapped her free arm around the little girl and drew her close.

"It's okay," Lincoln said, "I know you didn't and I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are," Lisa moaned. "You-You c-cried. I never meant to do that to you, L-Lincoln. I love you. You're a tremendous brother and I'm sorry I hurt you."

Lincoln reached across Leni, hesitated, and took one of Lisa's hands in his own. "I'm sorry," Lisa hitched. "I had no idea. I-I-I know words fail at times like these, but you're my brother and I love you, genetics be damned."

Rita wiped a tear away from her eye and bounced Lilly faster, as if by doing so she could outrun the tempest brewing within her. "Lana?"

Lana grinned. "When you made me over as Lola. I was a better Lola than she was."

Lola blew a raspberry. "He did a good job," Lana said.

"I know _he_ did...you, on the other hand..." she trailed off and looked at Lincoln. "My favorite memory is when we had that contest to see who could go the longest without doing their annoying thing and you beat me. I'm not used to losing, but if I absolutely had to go down in flames, I'm glad it was to you."

Lincoln couldn't help a washed out smile. She did freak over her make-up being all jacked up.

Lynn was next. She was almost as pale and shaken as Lincoln. "Uh...you're always there to play ball with me," she said without looking up. "And I know...it's not your favorite thing to do. That's pretty cool. I, uh, I appreciate it."

Rita glanced at Lucy. "When you took the blame for flushing that princess pony comic down the toilet for me." Everyone turned to look at her. "It was mine. Lincoln took the heat because I didn't want to get picked on. He missed his comic book convention and everything." Lucy looked at her brother. "No one's ever done anything like that for me...except you."

Lincoln was blushing. He wasn't used to having so much love heaped on him, and it was starting to make him a little uncomfortable.

Finally Rita looked at Lori, who was still hugging herself tightly. "Honey?"

She stared straight ahead for a moment, then ducked her head. "I keep thinking about when we went to see him before we brought him home...you, me, and Dad, and I said I didn't want a brother, then I saw him and I fell in love with him and I said 'you're gonna live with us and we'll never hurt you' but I have hurt him because I'm a terrible sister." She covered her face with her hand and fought to keep herself from breaking down. This isn't about me, she told herself.

"I'm going to be better," she vowed tearfully, "I promise." She looked at Lincoln, who couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. "You deserve better."

Rita looked at her son. He was staring at the floor, his face flush. "We all love you, Lincoln. We want you to know that. Nothing has changed, We loved you yesterday, we love you today, and we'll love you tomorrow."

Lincoln wiped a tear from his cheek and nodded. "I love you guys, too."

"So," Lynn Sr. sighed, "I'm sure you have questions. Whatever you want to know, we'll tell you."

Lincoln took a deep breath and searched his mind but the fog was too dense, so he just shook his head. "Not right now."

Lynn Sr. reached out and patted Lincoln's leg. "Who wants pizza?"


	3. Precious Memories

**Guest: It's funny you should mention** _ **A Nightmare on Loud Street**_ **; I finished a sequel two days ago. I'm debating with myself on whether I should post it simultaneously with this or after this. Probably after, since I don't want to overwhelm the site with my stuff, so stay tuned. I think it's even better than the first.**

* * *

Lincoln Loud lay in the darkness, his arms crossed and his eyes pointed unblinkling at the ceiling, where a harsh orange bar of light cast by a streetlamp outside pooled like liquid copper. His nose was clogged from crying and his head hurt. He was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes he saw the faces of his sisters as he had through the veil of his tears in Lisa's room: Watery, white-faced, like phantoms in the rain, and that made him cry even harder for some reason.

"Nice fucking job," Lori wept, "I hope you're happy with yourself."

Lisa's face was drawn, her eyes wide with shock. She glanced sightlessly around, her lips trembling. "I-I-I didn't..."

When the realization hit him – you're not related to us – the air left the room in a rush and revelation slammed into him like an ice-choked wave. His body turned to jelly and his throat constricted. He wasn't aware of Luna holding him and speaking softly, wasn't aware of anything. He opened his mouth – to say what he didn't know – and instead he began to cry.

He drew a deep breath and watched the shadow of a moth dancing in the shaft of light; it bumped against the window with a tiny tick.

They're not my family.

Hot tears welled in his eyes, and he blinked them back. Of course they are. Like Mom said, nothing's changed. He's the same Lincoln and they're the same everyone else.

Only deep down...Lincoln knew that wasn't true. He was not the same. Sitting at the dining room table during dinner, eating pizza and smiling to hide the raging tempest within, he looked into the face of each of his sisters, a strange, aching feeling ballooning in his stomach. I'm not one of them, he thought, and flicked his eyes down to his plate so none of them would see the hurt he knew must be in his eyes. He'd been an outsider his whole life – one boy among many, many girls, naturally apart – but now he felt it so keenly, so thoroughly, that he might as well have been totally and utterly alone at the table. That thought brought a rise of hot shame to the back of his neck. They loved him...Luna was there for him, Luan was there for him, Leni...when he needed them most, they came to him...they sat with him and held him and talked to him. How could he for even a second not think they were his family?

He was an ingrate.

These people took him in and raised him as their own, they loved him just as much as they loved their daughters...and the daughters loved him just as much as they loved each other...and here he was moaning because they weren't his actual family.

He couldn't help himself, though. Things had changed, and changed a lot, because when he looked at them now – all of them – the knowledge that he wasn't really one of them overtook everything else.

He cycled through all the memories he'd made in his life, images of a happy and carefree little boy flashing through his mind. This whole time he thought he was really one of them...but he wasn't...and they all knew it...Mom, Dad, and his older sisters, at least; he was suddenly certain that the fact of his otherness was always front and center in their minds the way it was now in his, that whenever they looked at him they saw only the little boy Mom and Dad adopted...the little boy who wasn't really their brother.

Sighing, he turned his head to the side and took in the shadowy room. They didn't treat him like that, though. They loved him. They picked on him sometimes, and sometimes they used him and manipulated him...but that was normal among siblings, right?

Right?

He went through all of his memories again...all the hugs...all the special family moments that he cherished...looking for traces of...he didn't know. He sat up, snapped the bedside lamp on, and opened the nightstand drawer. He reached in, took out a slim, leather-bound book, and scooted back against the headboard. He opened it, the soft lamplight falling across a picture. Luna sitting with her back against the couch, baby him cradled in her arms. She was wearing a big, gap-toothed smile. Below that was a picture of him leaning back in a newborn lounger on the couch. Luan was next to him, her finger poked into his cheek and a big grin on her face. He smiled and blinked back tears as he flipped the page. A slightly older him sat in a high chair, his face covered with orange goop. Lori, aged seven, held a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other; she faced the camera and smiled widely. The next picture was of him with a little pink bow in his hair and lipstick smeared on his face. He was sitting on the floor across from six-year-old Leni, who smiled sheepishly for the camera like a girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Lincoln softly laughed at the shamefaced expression in her eyes.

The pictures continued, the subjects growing older with each passing snapshot. Him sitting in the bathtub with Lynn, her hand splayed affectionately on top of his head and a playful light in her eyes; Dad teaching him to ride a bike; him on Christmas morning, holding up a toy and smirking, Luan sitting in front of him and bending over a present, her hands poised to tear into it; him flanked on either side by all of his sisters, save for Lola and Lana...Mom held one and Dad held the other; Lynn crashing into his waist as he reached up to catch a football; him and Luna dressed up as Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons from Kiss for Halloween; a thousand precious memories that Lincoln held dear to his heart. He smiled because they were beautiful, but then frowned because they weren't his family.

He snapped the book closed and took a deep breath. Yes. They. Are, These pictures proved it. Could you see blood or DNA? No, but you could see love and happiness. So what if he was adopted? It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

A knock came at the door, and he tensed. "Yeah?"

The door opened and Lori poked her head in. She looked anxious. "Hey, Linc, can...can I come in?"

Lincoln nodded against an inexplicable rush of apprehension. "Yeah."

She slipped in and shut the door softly behind her, crossed to the bed, and sat, drawing one leg up under herself and lacing her hands over her bare knee. "We really didn't get a chance to talk," she said, looking him in the eyes. "How...how are you?"

"I'm fine," Lincoln said and glanced away from her gaze. He felt awkward.

"You sure about that?" she asked, ducking her head and trying to meet his eyes. She reached out and touched his cheek. He looked back up, and she smiled.

"I'm a little out of sorts," he allowed. That was as honest as he could be right now, because he didn't know _how_ he felt; his stomach was a roiling mix of emotions, some he could name, others he could not. He looked at the photo album, and Lori followed his gaze.

"I was looking at mine earlier too," she said fondly as she reached over and picked it up. She sat it in her lap, opened it up, and smiled. "I love this picture of you and Luna. She was so happy when you came home. She marched around the house saying, 'My Lincoln, my Lincoln, my Lincoln.' And when I tried to play with you, she shoved me away. 'Leave my Lincoln alone! He's MINE!'" She laughed at the memory. Lincoln smiled weakly, his eyes darting away.

"I don't know what you're going through, Lincoln," she said seriously, her throat bobbing, "and I won't pretend I do. I can guess. I mean...I put myself in your shoes and I'd feel...like you. I don't know, Linc, but I'm your big sister and I'm here for you. I know I –" here her voice broke. "I know I haven't been the best – to you or anyone else – but I want to be better, Linc. You deserve better. Talk to me. I know you're hurting. I can see it in your eyes."

He nodded slightly. He started to speak, but couldn't. Before, he could easily open up...but now...things were different...and he felt so self-conscious that his face burned. Lori stroked his face. "Please, Linc?"

"I feel like..." he trailed off, not knowing how to continue. "I feel a lot of stuff," he finally sighed. "I was looking at the pictures and I was smiling, but it was like...none of it's real."

Lori's brow crinkled sadly. "Of course it's real, Linc. You're our brother and we love you. It doesn't matter to me that you aren't actually related to us. It doesn't matter to Leni, or Luna, or Luan, or anyone else."

Lincoln winced inwardly at 'aren't actually related to us.' He knew she meant well, but it still stuck in his heart.

"You're one of us just as much as I am." She sucked her bottom lip in. "In fact, you're one of this family more than I am. You're always there for us, Linc. For Lynn when she wants to play football, for Luan when she needs someone to listen to her jokes, for Lucy when she needs someone to give her feedback on her poems, to be a model for Leni..." she sighed. "Where am I?"

"Lori..." Lincoln started.

"You're a far better brother than I am a sister, and we all appreciate it. We appreciate it so much, Linc. We love you to death." She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight to her chest. "And we always have. All those pictures are real, all the happiness is real, all the love is real."

Tears flooded Lincoln's eyes, and he blinked them back. He put his arms around Lori and squeezed. She felt so good in his arms...comforting...loving. "I know," he whispered. "And I feel so bad for thinking that way."

"It's normal," she said into his ear. "I think I'd feel the same way. And feeling something and knowing something are two totally different things. You're probably going to feel that way for a while, just keep in mind you mean everything to us." She drew back and looked at him. His eyes were red and shimmered with tears...just like hers. She smiled and stroked his forehead. "I couldn't imagine not having you here. You're like the glue that holds this family together."

"I second that," someone said from behind them. They both turned to see Luan standing just inside the doorway. Luna was in the threshold, her elbow resting against the frame. Leni was in the hall, standing on her tippy toes and trying to see. When she locked eyes with Lincoln, she smiled. "Hi, Lincy! Room for, uh, three more?"

Lincoln smiled despite himself. He nodded. "Yeah."

They came in and closed the door behind them. Luna stretched out on the bed and propped herself up on her elbow. Luan sat on the edge. Leni knelt on the floor, leaning back and resting her hands on her knees.

"How you doin, bro?" Luna asked.

"Alright," Lincoln said, and meant it. He did feel a little better than he did earlier.

"Do you wanna hear some jokes?" Luan asked. "I got the top shelf stuff down just for you."

"I brought my nail polish," Leni said, "we can give you a makeover!"

"What's that?" Luna nodded toward the photo album next to Lori. She reached out, picked it up, and smiled.

"Pictures?" Luan asked, leaning over. "Those are good too."

"I wanna look at pictures," Leni said.

Luna got onto her knees and went over to Lincoln, sitting next to him and putting her arm around him. Luan squeezed in between Luna and the wall, and Leni sat next to Lori; half of her butt hung over the edge of the bed, but she didn't mind...she was spending time with Lincy and that's all that mattered.

Luna opened the album, and the first picture she saw was the one of her and Lincoln the day Mom and Dad brought him home. She smiled.

"Aw," Leni said, "it's baby Lincy."

"I was so stoked that day," Luna said. "When Mom tried to take you back I wouldn't let her."

"Remember pushing me down for trying to touch him?" Lori asked.

Luna pulled Lincoln close. "You were cutting in on my bro time," she said dismissively. She looked at Lincoln, and he was smiling, which made her smile. She could only imagine how hard today had been on him, and what he was feeling right now; at this point, a smile meant everything.

"I remember that day," Luan said, nodding to the picture of her and Lincoln on the couch. "I put my finger out and kept trying to get you to turn your head, but you wouldn't do it. You knew you were gonna get poked." She giggled. "You got my sense of humor even then."

Lincoln studied the photo; she looked happy, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Luna turned the page, and everyone laughed at the photo of Leni and baby Lincoln. "Mom was so mad," Lori recalled.

"But he liked it," Leni said. She tapped baby Lincoln's face. "See? He's happy."

"And that one," Lori said of the one depicting her feeding Lincoln, "God, you were such a messy eater."

"Didn't he knock the bowl out of your hand like two seconds after this was taken?" Luan asked.

Lori nodded and ruffled Lincoln's hair, which made him giggle. "Yes, he did. It splattered me, him, the floor, the wall, Dad, the camera. It was literally the biggest mess ever."

"I slipped in it," Luan said.

"You did, didn't you?" Lori asked, and laughed. "You came running in like a goofball and BOOM!"

Everyone laughed, even Lincoln; he could see Luan going down as clear as day.

"Remember what happened next?" Lori asked.

Luan cocked her head, her brow creasing. "No," she said, "I don't."

"You got up, you were crying, and you yelled at Lincoln 'Why are you such a slob?' Then you went to storm out and slipped again."

Luan gasped. "I do remember that." She reached around Luna and flicked Lincoln's cowlick. "You got me good that day, Linc."

"He got Leni even better," Luna said, craning her neck to see her second-oldest sister over Lori's head. "Remember that day he pooped on you?"

Leni ducked her head and shivered. "That was so gross! I was, like, changing your diaper, Lincy, and you shot watery poop out of your butt!"

Lincoln couldn't help laugh at the image.

"It got all over my shirt and the stain never came out."

Everyone laughed, and for the first time since that afternoon, the fact that he was adopted did not gnaw at his stomach. He was surrounded by his sisters and he could feel their love. He suspected that once they were gone for the night, the pain would return, but for now, all was well. He snuggled closer to Luna and rested his head on her shoulder. She responded by running her fingers through his hair.

"Speaking of stain," Lori said, "you know Lincoln's pee stain is still in the backyard?"

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "My what?"

"When you were potty training and we were outside you'd go behind the shed and pee," Lori said. "You did it in the same spot every time for, like, months, and the grass died." She laughed. "It's still dead."

Now that Lincoln thought about it, there was a patch of dead grass behind the shed. He just assumed...well, he didn't know what he assumed. He certainly didn't remember peeing on it enough to kill it.

"That crack he made in the living room wall is still there too," Luan said.

"Crack?" Lincoln asked.

"Oh," Leni drew somberly, "that was totes scary."

"What happened?" Lincoln asked.

"You were, like, three," Luna said, "and you tripped over a toy and smacked your head against the wall. You screamed bloody murder and had a giant knot on your forehead for a week. We thought you were really hurt."

"But luckily you have a hard head," Luan said.

"Where is it?" Lincoln asked.

"The crack?" Lori asked. "It's behind the end table by the foot of the stairs. "

Hm. He didn't remember that either. That's why he loved having older sisters; they remembered all the things in his life that he didn't.

Sisters?

Shut up.

Luna flipped the page. "Oh, that's..."

She trailed off when someone knocked on the door.

* * *

Rita Loud leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped steaming hot chocolate from a mug emblazoned with WORLD'S BEST MOM inside a bright red heart.

She didn't feel like the world's best mom.

Lynn Sr. was bent over the sink, rinsing his own mug out. His said WORLD'S BEST DAD. He poured some Dawn onto a sponge and vigorously cleaned the inside of the cup, giving himself entirely to the distraction. In a minute or two, he would have to put it in the dish rack and face reality...a reality where his son knew he was adopted. It might not have been such a terrible thing for another child (though still bad), but Lincoln was very sensitive...not that there was anything wrong with being a kind, sweet, sensitive boy (the world has precious few of those), but something that would hit another child hard hits a sensitive child harder. At dinner, he looked so...uncomfortable...like he was surrounded by people he didn't know.

People who weren't his family.

Lynn was a sensitive man himself, and the memory of the expression on his son's face, his eyes darting nervously around the room, brought tears to his eyes. He scrubbed the inside of the mug harder, even though it was already clean.

"How's Bob?" Rita asked perfunctorily.

"Good," Lynn replied. He opened his mouth to voice the question he'd been turning over in his mind since dinner, but closed it again. He knew what Rita would say. He rinsed the cup one final time and put it in the drying rack. He gripped the edge of the sink and stared down the drain. It was worth a shot. "Do you think we should tell him about –?"

"No," Rita said.

Lynn sighed. "We owe it to him, Rita. He deserves to know, maybe it'll help him."

"He has everything he needs, Lynn. Ten sisters who love him and two parents who love him."

Lynn turned to his wife. "This is the perfect time. He's going to find out eventually, and when he does...five years down the road...or ten...he's going to be mad at us...or hurt, and I wouldn't blame him."

Rita drew a deep breath. On some level she knew that Lynn was right...but Lincoln already had enough to deal with. "His entire world came crashing down this afternoon," she said. "And no matter how much we tell him we love him, no matter how much we show him we love him, he's going to feel like he's an outsider. He's going to feel like he isn't part of this family – his family. You know just as well as I do what sort of things he's going to go through."

Lynn did. Upstairs, in the back of the closet, were Lincoln's adoption papers...and a pamphlet on breaking the news to your child, and a lengthy section on what to expect: Fear of abandonment, fear of trusting the wrong person, fear of vulnerability, feeling out of place...

"Still, Rita, he needs to know, and he needs to know soon."

Rita finished the last of her hot chocolate and sat the mug on the counter. A part of her was afraid of telling Lincoln, afraid that she would somehow lose him, and the prospect of losing her son made her sick to her stomach. She may not have birthed him, but she loved him as deeply as any of her other children; he was hers as surely as Luan or Lucy was hers. She didn't want to lose him...she _so_ didn't want that.

Lynn was right, however. They owed it to him. "Not now," she said, "but...yes, soon."

Lynn nodded. He had the same fears as she did, but Lincoln deserved to know. "I'm glad the younger ones are taking it well," he said as he turned away.

"So am I," Rita said.

After dinner, Lincoln went upstairs, and he and Rita took the opportunity to talk to Lynn, Lucy, Lola, Lana, and Lisa – none of them knew, not even Lynn, who was barely two when Lincoln was adopted.

"You know Lincoln's still your brother, right?" He asked them.

"Well, duh," Lola said, crossing her arms.

"I stand by what I said earlier," Lisa said.

Lynn looked at the daughter who bore his name. She seemed troubled. "Honey?"'

She nodded. "Yeah. I know." She looked up at him. "And I love him just the same."

The siblings of an adopted child, Lynn knew, often experience many of the same feelings that the brother or sister in question feels when their adoption is revealed. Lynn was worried about Lincoln...but he also had to worry about his five youngest, because the last thing Lincoln needed right now was for one or more of his sisters to pull away from him.

"I want all of your to be considerate of him and his feelings," Lynn said, "what he's going through right now is very difficult and it's going to take him time to adjust and come to terms with it. If he's moody or withdrawn or short, just be patient with him. Ask yourself how you would feel in his situation. He's...he's upset, but he'll eventually get a handle on it."

Not for the first time he wondered if they were wrong not to have been open from the beginning. It would have avoided a situation like this where it suddenly came out and Lincoln and his younger sisters were shocked and crestfallen. He and Rita decided not to because they wanted Lincoln to be 100 percent a part of the family, and how can a child truly feel like he's part of a family when you tell him early on that he isn't?

"I'm going to go see how he's doing," Rita said, pushing away from the counter.

When Rita opened Lincoln's bedroom door, she was heartened – though not surprised – to see Lincoln flanked on either side by his five oldest sisters; the soft lamplight bathed their faces in a warm glow, and they were all smiling, even Lincoln.

"Hi, Mom!" Leni chirruped.

"Hi," Rita said, smiling, "what are you guys doing?"

"Looking at pictures," Lori said, and Luna held up a slim, leather-bound photo album. She and Lynn bought each of their children one last Christmas, because even though most photos these days are digital and exist only on a screen, there's nothing like holding them in your hands.

In his hour of need, Rita thought, her throat lumping with emotion, here they were, sitting with him and looking at pictures. Nothing they could ever do, no academic or professional achievement, would ever make her as proud of them as she was right now. She nodded slowly. "That's nice," she said, her voice steady to her own ears. "I just...wanted to see how you're doing, Lincoln."

"I'm doing okay," he said.

"I wanted to talk to you alone, but I don't want to intrude."

"We can come back," Luan said, then her brows shot up. "How about a slumber party? Just us and Linc?"

"Uh, I don't think we'll all fit in here," Lincoln said.

"We can use our room," Lori said, and glanced at Leni. "Sure, that sounds totes fun," Leni said.

Luna kissed the top of Lincoln's head, handed him the photo album, and scooted to the edge of the bed. Luan rocked herself onto her knees, but tipped and face-planted into the cover.

"Come on, chuckles," Luna said, "you can do it."

Leni slipped off of the bed and rubbed her butt. Lori cupped the back of Lincoln's head and planted a soft kiss just above his right eye – where eleven years ago an ugly bruise marred his smooth, pink flesh.

 _She hasn't done that since she was a little girl_ , Rita thought.

"When you're done, grab your blanket and stuff and come over," she said, and rubbed his head.

He smiled. "Okay."

Rita watched her daughters file out of the room, Lori last; she pulled the door shut behind her. Rita sighed contentedly and turned to Lincoln. "They love you, Lincoln," she said. She crossed to the bed and sat down in front of her son.

"I know," he said, "and I love them too." He loved them more than he could ever say, and he hoped that they always loved him the way they did now.

"Remember that whatever you do, honey," Rita said, and stroked his cheek. It was warm and smooth. "You're going to go through a lot of emotions over the next couple weeks and months, and that's natural; just don't forget that we all love you and always will."

Lincoln prayed that she was telling the truth.

"I know you wanted to be alone earlier," she went on. "You didn't really ask any questions. Are you curious now?"

Lincoln took a deep breath and considered her question. Curious about who he really was? Curious about his real family? A little. He opened his mouth, and the first thing that popped to mind tumbled out. "Who am I?"

Rita blinked. "You're Lincoln Loud," she said tenderly, and grazed her fingertips across his face. "You're a kind, caring, giving boy with a mother and a father and ten sisters who love you more than anything else in this world...even if they don't always take the time to stop and show it."

"No, I mean...before?"

Rita took a deep breath. She did not want to delve into what she knew of his life prior to their adopting him. He was only three months old the day they brought him home, but in those three months he suffered...he suffered greatly, and every time she thought of it she cried. "You didn't have a name," she said. "I don't know how...she...got away with not naming you, because you're supposed to have a name for your baby before you leave the hospital, but that didn't happen."

For some reason the fact that he did not have a name disturbed him deeply. His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Why was I adopted?"

"Because –" here Rita choked as if on something disgusting " –your birth mother couldn't take care of you. She wasn't well."

"Like...she was sick?"

Rita nodded. "Very."

"With what?"

Rita drew a deep breath. "She had a lot of issues. She was sick in her head and she couldn't raise you, so the state took you away."

Lincoln's stomach twisted.

"Then we saw you and you were the most beautiful little baby we'd ever seen. You were lying in a crib with blue sheets and a little stuffed puppy dog next to you, and you were asleep with your arms over your head and you were so adorable." Tears filled Rita's eyes as she remembered, but she laughed. "It was love at first sight and we knew we had to have you. I think...I think God led us to you."

Lincoln let her words sink in. She didn't talk about God very often. Why was she talking about him now?

Was that really what happened?

Lincoln felt guilty for not trusting his mother...but she lied about the most fundamental thing – who he was and where he fit into the world. He told himself that it wasn't really lying, but deep inside he felt a twinge of betrayal...which made him feel worse. She didn't betray him...she raised him and loved him just like he was her real son.

"Is-Is my birthday my real birthday?" he blurted.

"Of course it is," Rita said, putting on a smile that she didn't feel. "April 21."

"How old was I when you adopted me?"

"Three months," Rita said.

Lincoln grasped for more questions. He had some...but he was not brave enough to ask them.

"I know this is difficult for you, honey," she said, "and you're going to feel differently for a while. That's absolutely normal. You're going to see, though, that nothing has changed. You're still the most important thing in the world to us and we still love you dearly."

"I love you too," he said.

Rita smiled and stroked her son's face. He was the sweetest, kindest, and most loving little boy she had ever known; he was perfect in every way and she was so happy that he was hers. "I don't want to keep you away from your sisters," she said, "they might beat me up if I do."

Lincoln grinned.

"If you ever want to talk about it, your father and I are always here. Okay?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"I love you, Lincoln," she said, and kissed his forehead. "I love you so much."

* * *

He's not my brother.

Those four words had been ricocheting through Lynn Loud's head since four 'o'clock that afternoon. At first she was numb with shock, then a swirl of emotions tore through her like fire, emotions she couldn't identify because she had never been an outwardly emotional person: She felt, sure, but she was like a woman who knew your basic colors...red, blue, green...but when you started throwing in magenta and amaranth, she was lost. The dominate emotion was sadness. She was sad because in a way, she lost her brother that day, and she was sad because that thought made her feel guilty. Lincoln was the same guy he'd always been, the same guy she'd grown to love and cherish, even if he was kind of a dork...he was there for her when she needed him and he always (or almost always) went above and beyond the call of duty to help her. That's who he was. That didn't change.

But when she looked at him now, there was an indefinable something that was different. At dinner, she stole glances at him when he wasn't looking, studied him the way you'd study something under a microscope. Things look different under a microscope...looking at them, you find that they aren't quite what they seemed. That was Lincoln. He was familiar but strange. And when she was around him now, she felt awkward. What should she do? What should she say? She felt like she should say something to him, because she still loved him, but words escaped her.

Lying in the darkness of her room, her hands laced over her chest and her eyes staring at the ceiling, she considered asking Lucy how she felt, but she didn't want her to get the wrong idea. She loved Lincoln, she really did, but...I don't know...you can't spend your entire life thinking something only to find out it isn't true and then bounce right back...especially something so basic as thinking someone's your family when they aren't.

She tried to put herself in Lincoln's shoes and imagine what he was going through right now, and she figured it was roughly the same thing she was dealing with...though probably worse. She felt terrible for him, and for a moment she considered getting up and going to him, but she still didn't know what to say, and the knowledge that he wasn't really her brother would prod her incessantly and make her feel too awkward to even speak.

 _He's not really your brother, but he is_ , Dad said...which was another way of saying _he's your brother but not really_. She kind of understood what he meant. The relationship they'd built was deeper than DNA or whatever, but she couldn't help how she felt, and when she was around Lincoln earlier, she felt uneasy in the most basic sense of the word: She didn't feel that peaceful ease that one felt at home around family, she was just a little tense, just a little on guard. Kind of like being barefoot vs wearing shoes, she thought rudimentarily. And still, it made her feel so bad she could almost cry, because Lincoln might not be her real brother but he still kind of was.

At the end of the day, did it really matter that they weren't really brother and sister? No, she thought, but kinda. She didn't know. Her stomach ached with loss and she took a deep breath. He was the same old Linc...he was her goofy little brother. They spent their entire lives together, they shared a thousand memories and a thousand special moments. That didn't change.

But he wasn't really her brother, and that made her mad. She loved Lincoln, and finding out that he wasn't really her brother was like someone taking something away from her. He's still there...he's still the same...

She knew that, but...ugh, she didn't know. She tried to clear her mind and tempt sleep, but sleep did not come for a very long time.

In the next bed over, Lucy drifted on the edge of sleep. Unlike her older sister, she was familiar with her emotions: They were labeled and neatly categorized. She was shocked, and she was hurt, but her love for Lincoln was endless. He was not a perfect person (no one ever was), but he was close enough, and though it made Lucy feel guilty to play favorites, when the topic came out of the void, Lincoln's face was always the first she saw. She felt exactly the same way about him now as she did this time last night: She looked up to him, she loved him dearly, and she hoped to one day be half the person that he was. She decided that she would talk to him tomorrow...then never speak of it again. She would go on like she had before, because even though they did not share blood, they shared something more important: A family bond. When she looked at him, she saw her sweet, goofy, amazing older brother.

Unlike Lynn, she drifted peacefully to sleep.

* * *

In the darkness, Lana spoke: "Lola?"

"What?" Lola asked. From the tone of her voice, she, like Lana, was wide awake.

"Do you still love Lincoln?"

Lola sighed, annoyed, "Of course I do. He didn't break my vanity."

"Just making sure," Lana said.

"...Do you?"

"Yes," Lana answered truthfully. All of the memories she and her brother had made came flooding back, and she smiled. "He's a great brother."

Lola smiled too. "Yeah. He is. As far as I'm concerned, this matter is settled and I'd like to not talk about it again."

"Me too."


	4. A New Life

**Includes lyrics to** _ **I Love You Period**_ **by Dan Baird (1992)**

* * *

Lincoln Loud came awake with a gasp, the thin, dusky light of Saturday morning creeping through the window. He was covered in sweat and his back hurt. He glanced around, and his heart clutched. This wasn't his room...where was he? Why wasn't he in his room? He went to sit up, but a weight across his chest stopped him. He looked over, and Luna's sleeping face was revealed in the gloom. His eyes fell upon her arm, which laid protectively over him. Luan was on his other side, snuggled close, her body almost touching his.

Memory returned, and he laid back against his pillow. He was in Lori and Leni's room; they had a slumber party and stayed awake late into the night, talking, looking at photos, and generally enjoying one another's company.

The memory, however, was overshadowed by the nightmare he'd had. In it, he was sitting at the dining room table and everyone was looking at him, their faces expressionless. He squirmed under their heavy gazes, and his heart crashed; there was something different about them...their faces were strange, misshapen. A roaring sense of otherness came over him, and he ran away, staggering down tilted corridors that he knew but didn't. At the end he came to a room with a mirror, and when he looked into it, he saw his own face, but did not recognize it.

Just a nightmare, he thought now, his breathing ragged. Of course you're going to have nightmares; you just found out your entire life was a lie and everything you thought you knew wasn't true.

 _That_ was a lie. His sisters loved him. His parents loved him. So what he wasn't related to them? Mom and Dad weren't related but they loved each other.

Ever hear of a divorce?

Cold horror blew through his chest like stale crypt wind.

Sometimes people think they love each other, but things just don't work out and they separate.

No, that was different. Totally different.

...Only it wasn't. If a man and a woman can love each other for thirty years then not love each other, what's to keep a man and a woman (or ten girls) from loving someone for eleven years...then not? He glanced worriedly at Luna's face. They loved him. He knew that. He saw it last night, he felt it. That was not a lie.

But he wasn't one of them...he didn't have the same blood, didn't emit the same pheromones that triggered the 'unconditional love' portion of Lori and Mom and everyone else's brain. His scent was different...he was different...their love for him couldn't be as strong as it was for each other. It was science. Their love for one another was forged in iron and bone deep...their love for him was brittle and superficial...at any moment, it could break, and he would lose them forever.

He blinked back stinging tears.

No, he wouldn't. They loved and cared for him, and thinking this way was worse than spitting in their faces. They took him in when they didn't have to, they fed him and clothed him and bought him things, they put up with his temper tantrums and his transgression when he had no right to transgress...no right to be picky or complain or cry or yell or scream or get frustrated. How many times did his mother or father look at him crying and kicking on the floor and think _what a little ingrate_? Maybe they didn't indulge, but it had to have crossed their minds at some point...at least once. And could you blame them if it did? Here they were doing a huge favor for a kid that wasn't even theirs...and he acts like a snotty brat.

Lincoln mentally went through every fit he could remember throwing, every cross word he said to his parents, every last bellyache about Dad's cooking...and he was so ashamed of himself that he could barely breathe. He had a lot of nerve.

He drew a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Tears were streaming down his face and he choked back a rising sob. He closed his mouth so his breathing didn't disturb his sisters. They were so good to him and he didn't want to annoy them...was afraid to annoy them ever again.

An image flashed across the backs of his eyelids: His sisters crossing their arms and turning their backs on him. They had done that before but they always turned around...this time, however, they didn't.

The tears came faster and his lips quivered. He sucked them in and clamped them between his teeth. That wouldn't happen. It couldn't happen.

He thought of all the times one of his sisters said 'I don't have a brother.'

And it was true.

They didn't.

He broke down then, sucking great gasps of air and hitching violently. He tried to be quiet so they wouldn't hear him, but Luna stirred, and her hand fluttered to his face, tilted his head. He closed his eyes because he couldn't face her...not like this.

"Hey," she whispered, "what's wrong?"

He shook his head and cried harder.

She put her arm around him and pulled him close to her. "You have a nightmare?"

He nodded.

"Forget it, bro," she said, "that's all it was, a nightmare. You're good now. You're safe and loved and wanted. You know that, right?"

Yeah, but for how long? How long before I mess it up?

When another hand fell on his forehead, he jumped. "It's okay, Linc," Luan said. "Please don't be sad." She sounded sad herself, and that made Lincoln cry even harder.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, shaking his head against Luna's breast. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh," Luna said and started to rock him. Hers and Luan's eyes met in the murk: Both sets were red-rimmed and shone with tears. Their little brother was in the deepest pain anyone could ever experience, and all they could do was hold him as it tore through him.

Luna kissed his forehead and started to sing the first song that came to mind, her voice low and breaking as her own pain wracked her:

" _I love you period_

 _Do you love me question mark_

 _Please, please exclamation point..."_

She forgot the rest: It was about loving someone so it was appropriate.

Lincoln's weeping had quieted, but he still hitched: The front of Luna's nightshirt was soaked through with his hot tears, and she hugged him tighter. It wasn't fair...someone as good and beautiful as him should never have to feel the kind of pain he was feeling...if she could change places with him she would in a minute; anything it took to dry his tears and stop him hurting.

Anything.

Because she loved him.

Leni was sitting next to Luan now, her eyes pooled with concern. Lori's head appeared over the edge of her bed, and she looked just as worried as her sisters.

Lincoln's tears slowly tapered off and he sniffled. For a while he was silent. "I'm sorry I woke you up," he said, "and cried again."

"Don't be, Linc," Lori said, and reached out to touch his head. "We're here when you need us...morning, noon, or night."

"I feel like I need to get over it," he said, "and I'm just being a baby."

"You're, like, the least babyish person I know," Leni said and patted his leg. "Luan's a bigger baby than you."

Luan nodded. "That's true."

Lincoln took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Just don't think about it...think of something else, anything else.

Well...he _did_ have to pee.

"I have to go to the bathroom," he said, and pulled away from Luna, who released him only reluctantly. She watched as he slipped out from under the covers and got up. He was still wearing his jeans and polo shirt from the day before.

When he was gone, she sighed and flopped against her pillow. "Poor Lincy," Leni said morosely. "He's so sad."

"He doesn't deserve this," Luna said, and sudden anger rose in her. "He's such a good dude and look at the shit he goes through. It's fucked."

"We have to do something," Luan said, twisting her ponytail nervously. "Something to make him feel better." She sighed and looked away from Luna, who stared blankly up at the ceiling, her lips a tight, angry slash.

"There's nothing we can do," Lori sighed. She raked a hand through her tangled blonde hair. "We can hug and kiss him until we're blue in the face, but he's still going to feel shitty. You heard what Dad said: He's going to worry that we don't love him or that we're going to stop loving him. We just have to keep doing what we're doing and let time take its course."

Luna sniffed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. "I don't wanna wait for time. You saw him, he's fucking miserable. Man, I can't...I can't take seeing him like that." She wiped her eyes again.

"What can we do?" Luan asked. "I mean, I guess Lori's right, we just have to keep showing him we love him and over time he'll realize we're not going to stop."

"I would never stop loving Lincy," Leni said, and hugged herself. "I'd have a better chance of becoming a bigger genius than Lisa than stop loving Lincy."

"None of us could stop loving him," Lori said. "And he'll see that...eventually."

In the bathroom, Lincoln stared at his face in the mirror. His eyes were pink and his cheeks were flush from crying. He was embarrassed to no end; what did they think of him? _Look, twerp_ , he could hear Lori saying, w _e're going out of our way here to show you we love you, the least you can do is show some appreciation._

 _I'm sorry._

A little voice spoke up from the back of his head. _She wouldn't say that. She cares about you._

Right. Yes. He knew that. You can lie with your mouth but you can't lie with your eyes, and in her eyes, and Luan's and Luna's and Leni's he saw only love and tenderness. Of course...that could just be wishful thinking. When you're desperate and need to hear something, a lie sounds like truth.

 _Stop this_ , he told himself firmly. _Stop being just a sensitive little baby. Nothing's changed. They're the same old sisters they've been all along. They've always cared about you and they've always been there when you needed them...just like they're there for you now. Stop being an ingrate and appreciate them._

Lincoln nodded. He went over to the toilet, lifted the lid, and unzipped his pants. When he was done, he flushed it and glanced at the shower. He kind of wanted one, but right now he had more pressing matters.

He washed his hands and opened the door, jumping back when he got a face full of Lucy. "Hey, Linc," she said as monotonously as ever. Was it his imagination, or was there something...different about her?

"H-Hey, Luce," he said, catching his breath.

"I wanna talk to you later," she said, then tilted her head downward almost imperceptibly. "If you have time."

"Sure," he said, and flashed a nervous smile. He knew what she wanted to talk about, and already he felt uncomfortable.

"Wicked."

For a moment neither spoke or moved.

"Can I pee now?"

Lincoln blinked. "Yeah, sorry." He slipped past her and went to Lori's door, where he paused and took a deep breath. They're your sister and they love you.

Yes.

He took another breath and went in. Leni was sitting at her vanity and pouting at herself in the mirror, Lori was lying across her bed, her eyes pointed at the ceiling, Luna was on the floor, one knee drawn up and her fingers laced over her chest, Luan was sitting against the foot of Lori's bed and anxiously playing with her ponytail. When he came in, they all looked up and smiled at him.

"Hey, guys," he said, "I just wanted to say...to say I really appreciate all you've been doing for me. I –" he glanced down at his shoes, his cheeks suddenly burning – "I love you guys."

"Don't mention it, bro," Luna said, sitting up, "that's what families do."

"We'll always be there for you," Luan said.

"You're our Lincy," Leni said, facing him.

"Anytime, anywhere," Lori said and flashed a weak smile.

Lincoln felt so ashamed for doubting them that he felt like he was going to start crying again. "You guys are great."

They all got up and came to him, hugging him: He was lost in a cocoon of warm sisterly love. _It's going to be okay, Linc_ , he told himself, _just get it together. They're your sisters..._

* * *

He's your brother.

Lynn Loud was standing at the foot of the stairs with her hand resting absently on the banister. The chatter of her siblings in the dining room found her ears, and while she didn't hear Lincoln, she knew he would be there.

Same old Lincoln. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her stomach twanged with apprehension, and that irritated her. There was no reason to feel like this. Lincoln was her brother even if he wasn't blood. Like Mom said, what does blood really matter? Family is deeper than that. She and Lincoln had always been close and they had a million memories together...a rock solid foundation, you know?

She searched her heart, and there it was, the love for her brother...the dorky little boy she loved and had always kind of admired.

Why was she so nervous then?

Was it because she didn't know what to say? Was it because she was afraid things would be different? Hell, things already were different, whether she wanted them to be or not, there was no getting around that. That didn't mean he wasn't important to her anymore, he was, but...she didn't know. She was so confused she could hardly tell which way was up anymore, and it was starting to piss her off. She did know one thing: Blood brother or not, Lincoln had always been there when she needed him, and now he needed her, so she had to suck it up, get her head in the game, and power through.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed away from the banister, crossed the living room, and went into the dining room, seeking and finding Lincoln next to Lori. He glanced up, and she couldn't help but look away. "Hey, Linc," she said evenly.

"Hey," he replied.

In the kitchen, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and leaned against the fridge. Memories she had made with Lincoln over the years came flooding back, and she swallowed hard. He really was a good brother...better than her sisters, if she was honest, and she cherished each memory she had of him. And looking back...she didn't see blood, she saw Linc...just cute, dorky, kind Linc...Linc the problem solver, Linc the peacemaker, Linc who was always doing for other people.

And here she was being all awkward about him just because he was adopted. What a piece of shit.

She crossed to the pantry, grabbed a sports bar, and went into the dining room, taking an open seat next to Luan. She sneaked a glance at Lincoln, who was bent over his bowl, and he was the same as he was yesterday...maybe a little glummer than usual, but that was normal. She felt glum too.

"I don't know why you insist on smacking your lips," Lola said, holding up a hand, "but it's really beginning to irritate me."

Lana slurped a spoonful of cereal, leaned over, and smacked her lips next to Lola's ear, a challenging look in her eyes. Lola turned and glared at her. "You're pushing it."

Smirking, Lana dipped her spoon into her bowl and brought it up to her lips, her eyes never leaving Lola's. Like a flash, Lola knocked the spoon out of her twin's hand; milk and bits of cereal splattered the wall.

"Knock it off, guys," Lori said.

"But –" Lola began.

Lori held up her hand. "Cut it out. And Lana...stop being obnoxious."

"It's called eating," Lana said. "Maybe you should try it sometime, Miss Anorexic."

Lori's face turned red and she started to reply, but stopped and took a deep breath. "It's called purposely annoying your sister, and if you keep it up, it's going to be called the reason I talked to Mom and Dad and they put you in time out."

Lana opened her mouth, but closed it again and turned to her bowl. She did not like time out. Time out was lame.

Lynn ripped the wrapper off her sports bar and looked at Lincoln again. It's funny how something – or someone – can be so familiar yet so strange in the right light. Or the wrong light.

She should say something to him...make sure he knew she still loved him...but the words wouldn't come.

Do you really still love him? If you loved him you wouldn't be having such stupid thoughts. He's not strange or different. He's your brother.

She took a bite, but the taste was off...it was like cardboard in her mouth, and she grimaced. She was a shitty sister; Lori, Leni, Luna, and Luan were right there to hug him and talk to him, and where was she? Standing on the sidelines and looking at him like he was some kind of weird bug. She swallowed hard and took another bite. It was easier for them, though, because they knew. They had time to get used to it. She didn't. She was told something for years only to have it change in the course of a single afternoon. It wasn't Lincoln's fault, he was just as much a victim as she was, it was...

...who? Her parents? Her older sisters?

Well...yeah. They lied to her.

But they did it for a good reason, right?

Ugh. She was getting sick of thinking about this. At the end of the day, it didn't matter, Linc was Linc. Case closed.

Now that they weren't really brother and sister, though, would he feel different about her? Hell, did he feel different _now_?

Sighing, she pushed away from the table and went into the kitchen, where she threw the remains of her sports bar into the trash and went outside. She needed to clear her head.

In the dining room, Lincoln took a deep breath. Lynn was acting funny, and had been ever since yesterday.

 _She doesn't love me anymore._

He tried to tell himself different...that she was probably going through some of the same things he was (it was a shock to both of them, after all), but deep down in the pit of his stomach, he knew she no longer loved him.

Lori sensed his distress, and put her hand on his shoulder. "You got any plans today, Linc?"

"Not really," he said. "I'm just gonna hang out, I guess."

"How about we do something," she suggested, "just the two of us?"

That sounded nice. Bonding time with his big sister. Might as well...before she stopped loving him.

 _Jesus, Linc, really, knock it off._

"Sure," he said. "What do you have in mind?"

Lori shrugged. "I don't know. The mall...the comic book store...lunch. That kind of thing."

Lincoln started to reply, but Luna cut him off. "Don't hog him all day. I wanna chill with him. I got some hot licks I need him to hear."

"Wait your turn," Lori said.

"I'd hate to have to shove you down again," Luna said.

Lori stuck her tongue out, and Luna laughed.

"I have some new material I need his opinion on," Luan said, "so both of you better hurry up."

"I still need to talk to you," Lucy said across the table. "It won't take long."

"There's enough of me to go around," Lincoln said and forced a smile.

Lori ruffled his hair. "I don't think there is, bro. We should get Lisa to clone you."

At the end of the table, Lisa glanced up. "I've attempted cloning in the past," she looked into her cereal with a faraway look, like a veteran recalling his traumatized days in 'Nam. "It did not turn out well."

"I guess we'll have to make do with one Linc then," Lori said.

When breakfast was over, Lincoln washed his bowl in the sink. Through the kitchen window, he could see Lynn; she was kicking a soccer ball and ducking around imaginary opponents. _She didn't even ask me if I wanted to play._

None of their siblings shared her proclivity for sports, which meant none of them would play with her. Because Lincoln didn't like to see his sisters sad, he always offered to play with her, and after a while, she started to draft him whenever she needed someone. He wasn't a huge fan of sports, but he enjoyed the time they spent together.

Now she hated him and she would never ask him to play again.

Pffft, that guy? He's not even my real brother.

He put the bowl in the drying rack and watched her wistfully, wishing, probably for the first time in his life, that she had dragged him outside and forced a ball into his hands. I love you, Lynn, he thought with a sad sigh, even if you don't love me.

Turning away, he went into the dining room, his head held low. "Hey, Linc?"

He looked up. Luan grinned playfully. "You have a visitor," she said in a singsong voice.

A visitor? He didn't want a visitor. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers over his head, and sleep for the rest of his life. He trudged past Luan into the living room; whoever it was, he was going to tell them to go away.

"There you are, lame-o."

Lincoln's heart sputtered and he looked up. Ronnie Anne was sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table, her arms crossed over her chest. "I was getting sick of waiting."

One, she couldn't have been waiting long, and two, what was she doing here?

"Uh, this is a surprise," he said.

She shrugged. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop by, see if you wanted to do something."

Do something with Ronnie Anne? Of course he did!

But Lori...

She wouldn't mind, though...would she? It might offend her or make her mad. But this was Ronnie Anne...the girl he loved.

And Lori was his sister.

"Give me a minute," he said, and rushed upstairs before she could protest. He found Lori sitting on her bed and looking at her phone. She looked up when he poked his head in the door and smiled.

"Hey, Linc."

"Hey," he said, his heart beginning to race, "I know we, uh, had plans, but Ronnie Anne is downstairs and she wants to hang out, so could we do it later?"

A sly grin crept across her face. "Ronnie Anne, huh?"

"Yeah, she just showed up. She was in the neighborhood."

Lori chuckled. "I doubt that, Linc. She came specifically to see you."

A hot blush spread across Lincoln's cheeks. "Maybe," he shrugged.

Lori laughed and shook her head. "Go on," she said, "we can always do our thing another time. I'm not going anywhere...and neither are you."

"Thanks," Lincoln said.

"Don't mention it," she said, "now go get the girl, Linc."

Lincoln blushed harder and ducked down the hall, but stopped and turned around. Almost forgot.

In Lucy's room, he leaned against the doorframe. She was sitting on her bed with her nose buried in a book.

"Hey," he said, "y-you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," she said, snapping the book closed and setting it aside. She took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say I love you and I look up to you. I couldn't have asked for a better brother...and after this, I'm going to forget yesterday ever happened because it means that little to me."

A genuine smile touched Lincoln's lips. Maybe it was her deadpan delivery, but he believed Lucy's words without hesitation. "Thank you," he said. "That means a lot to me."

Lucy grinned. "You're a wicked guy, Linc. You really are."

Lincoln came over, dropped onto the edge of the bed, and hugged her. She hugged him back.

"And before you go," she said, breaking away and taking a sheet of paper off her nightstand, "I need your opinion."

"Alright," he said, "hit me."

She held the paper up and cleared her throat. "This is just the beginning, okay?"

Lincoln nodded.

She cleared her throat again and began to read: "Red dripping down a skeleton's head, mixing with maggot poop and green cemetery gloop...that's all I have now."

Lincoln threw his hand over his mouth to cover a grin. He didn't want her to think he was laughing at her. "It's kind of gross," he said.

She smiled. "Thanks."

When he was gone, she balled the poem up and tossed it into the wastebasket. She figured that'd make him smile.

* * *

Lisa was working on her computer when someone knocked on the door. "Enter," she said, scarcely realizing she had spoken. She was behind on her DNA project, not having the heart to pick it back up yesterday after the...unpleasantness. She soldiered on, however, because it was to the benefit of her family: Her mother, her father, and all ten of her siblings.

The door opened. "Hey," Lori said nervously, "uh, can we talk for a moment?"

Lisa turned away from the screen. Her oldest sister was standing half in the doorway, her eyes troubled. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," Lori said, "for...for being such a bitch about it. I just..."

"I understand," Lisa said honestly. "Things happen in the heat of traumatic moments. To be perfectly frank, the things you said to me paled in comparison to the things I said to myself." Her eyes flickered away.

Lori came in and knelt in front of her, resting her hand on her leg. "I feel awful," she said, and swallowed. "I should have handled it better."

"I feel awful too," Lisa said, and sighed. "I-I can't imagine how it must have felt for him to not only find out, but to do so in front of everyone." She blinked back an errant tear.

"It wasn't your fault," Lori said. "It's mine, and Leni's, and Luna's, and Luan's. We should have known when you started talking about DNA, but..." here Lori tittered, "we kind of forgot."

Lisa nodded. "I can see how that would slip your mind."

Lori hugged her little sister and kissed her cheek. "It was way wrong of me to say those things to you, and I'm really sorry."

Lisa hugged her back. "It's okay. Shit, as they say, happens."

Lori started to admonish her, but closed her mouth. In that moment, it didn't matter. She was right.

Shit happens.


	5. Ronnie Anne

**Includes lyrics to** _ **Can't Keep My Hands to Myself**_ **by Selena Gomez (2015)**

* * *

Rita Loud sat on her bed with a number of papers spread out before her: Lincoln's birth certificate, his adoption papers, court documents, and the medical files from his half dozen trips to the hospital before the state finally stepped in. A half dozen. Even now that made Rita so angry she shook: It took seven trips to the emergency room for them to notice something wasn't right. She had nine toddlers throughout the years, and she knew how easily (and how often) they hurt themselves, but a newborn? There was simply no excuse for them allowing it to happen that many times; someone wasn't doing their goddamn job and Lincoln almost died because of it.

Among the papers was a glossy 8 x 10 photograph of Lincoln taken before the adoption was finalized. He was lying in a crib with a bruise above his eye, and maybe it was her imagination, but he looked so _lonely,_ his dark eyes tender and wounded. She remembered him looking like that during the many times she and Lynn visited him at the hospital, and each time she saw him, she teared up. _You'll never be alone again,_ she whispered to him as she stroked his head; he looked up at her with wonder and kicked his legs. _You'll have five big sisters who will always love and protect you._

Presently, she picked up the photo and studied it, her eyes drawn magnetically to the bruise on his forehead, and hot, sharp rage welled up in her.

She rarely looked at this picture.

With a sigh, she sat it down and picked up a paper detailing Lincoln's history. Her eyes lingered on a particular passage, and what Lynn said the night before came back to her. They owed it to Lincoln to tell him, and now was the perfect time, not in a year, or five years, or ten years.

She glanced up when Lynn Sr. came in. Their eyes locked, and she took a deep breath. "I want to tell him soon," she said. "Do you think...it's too soon?"

Lynn sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. "Honestly, I don't know. I think it would be best to tell him now and get it out of the way. If we wait until he gets on his feet, we'll just be knocking them out from under him again."

Rita nodded. He was right. He was a wise man...just don't tell _him_ that. "I just don't want to put too much on him. He's already struggling."

"I know," Lynn said heavily. He had been watching his son all morning, and he looked generally ill at ease. In bed the previous night, he read over the pamphlet that came with the adoption papers; one of the main things a child may feel upon finding out they are adopted is a sense of not belonging. To Lincoln, Lynn imagined, this house was no longer his home...he was no longer a part of the family, but a guest...and that killed Lynn. "But, like I said, this might be good for him. It might help him adjust. At least I hope it helps him adjust. I...I don't like seeing him like this."

Rita shook her head. "Neither do I." She noticed how tense Lincoln was, and while she wanted to hold him in her lap and cover his face with kisses until he was all better, she knew that that wouldn't work. She, and Lynn, and the girls could do everything in their power to help him, but he was going to be anxious regardless. Time was the only thing that would heal him...time to see that they loved him unconditionally, time to see that they weren't going to stop loving him, or abandon him, or give him up. Therapy might help, but Rita was reluctant to send her son to a doctor because it might scare him. There's something wrong with you, it would say, and he would think he was in danger of being tossed away like a defective toy. She couldn't bear the thought of him feeling that way; he was such a sweet, special little boy, and she wanted him only to feel loved and wanted, which he was.

"When should we tell him?" she asked.

"Soon," Lynn said after a thoughtful pause, "not today, but soon."

Rita nodded and glanced at the photo of Lincoln. He was so small and frail. The first time they saw him, Rita was struck by just how tiny he was, and her maternal instincts kicked in. "What's wrong with him?" she asked the adoption agent. "Is he sick?"

"Malnourished."

When the state took him, he was severely underweight and had been sitting in a wet diaper for God only knows how long, his butt and privates covered in a nasty rash. Rita couldn't remember the last time she had seen her son's bare behind, but it wasn't all that long ago in the grand scheme of things, and there was still a red patch on one cheek.

The injustice of it all washed over her now, and she took a deep breath. Such a wonderful boy...and look how he was treated. It made her mad. Mad at God, mad at the universe, mad at that bitch who birthed him, mad at the hospital staff who didn't report the obvious abuse to CPS until the seventh time she hurt him. Life isn't fair, she knew that, but how could something so precious suffer so badly?

Then and now?

She wished there was something she could do, some magic word she could speak, to make it all better, to assuage his fears and allay his anxiety. There, wasn't, however, and only time and love would do that. It wouldn't be an easy road, but she was determined to get there one way or another.

Lynn reached out and laid his hand on her knee, and she rested her hand on his. "We'll be okay," he said, "he'll be okay. He has ten wonderful sisters to help him."

Rita nodded. "They are wonderful, aren't they?"

Lynn nodded. "All of our children are."

"How did we get so lucky?"

Lynn thought for a long time. "Fate, I suppose," he said, and that was good enough for Rita.

* * *

Lincoln Loud dropped into a chair and took a long sip from a fountain Pepsi, the condensation on the cup wetting his palm. Ronnie Anne sat in the chair across from him; her face was flush and her chest rose and fell. "You're off your game today."

They were in the snack bar which occupied one corner of the arcade: A half dozen tables were spread out across a tiled space in front of a counter. Piped music filtered from speakers in the ceiling:

 _So come on give me a taste_

 _Of what it's like to be next to you_

 _Won't let one drop go to waste_

 _You're metaphorical gin and juice_

The arcade was relatively empty at this hour, but later on, kids would pack in like sardines and wait times for the games would skyrocket. One time, he waited almost an hour to play Ms. Pac-Man. Ms. Pac-Man! It wasn't a bad game, but it certainly wasn't in demand the way it was in 1982 or whatever. He and Ronnie preferred avoiding the crowds whenever possible...after all, what fun was the arcade when you spent all your time waiting in line? It was like waiting to get into the bathroom at home.

Home. His home. Where his family was.

He took another sip and thought back to that morning, the way Lynn acted around him...uncomfortable, nervous, and his heart ached. Was it really his home, though? Maybe he was welcome...by some...but he was welcome at Clyde's house, and that didn't make it home.

"Dipshit, I'm talking to you."

Lincoln jerked around. Ronnie Anne was leaning over the table with a grin on her face. "Welcome back," she said. "How was Lincolnland?"

He shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Something's up with you. First you totally bomb at Dance Party now this. You aren't the best, but you usually beat me at least once. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he lied.

"You're full of it," she said. She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Come on, spit it out."

Lincoln locked eyes with her, then glanced away. Would she think differently of him if he told her? That's kind of a big deal, you know, finding out that the guy you've been hanging out with is not who you thought he was...that even _he_ doesn't know who he really is. He didn't want her to think less of him...he desperately didn't want that...but he couldn't lie to her. She deserved to know.

"Fries!"

Lincoln looked over his shoulder. The cashier, looking like a barber pole in a red and white striped shirt and white paper hat, was leaning over the counter, a red basket full of French fries in front of him. Saved by the bell, Lincoln thought as he got up. "Thanks," he said as he grabbed the basket and a squeeze bottle of ketchup. He didn't know if he could handle losing Ronnie Anne right now...then again, he already lost Lynn and...he really liked Ronnie Anne...but family is everything.

He sat the fries and ketchup on the table and sat. His eyes were leaky again, and he hurriedly wiped them dry, hoping Ronnie Anne didn't see.

She did.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone softening. She leaned over the table and fixed him with a sober – and caring? – expression. The intensity of what he saw, or what he thought he saw, in her eyes made him buckle, and he glanced away, his gaze falling on a boy playing Area 51. For just a second, Lincoln wished he was him...just a normal kid who knew who he was and didn't have to worry about his family ceasing loving him.

Then Ronnie Anne touched his arm and he jumped. "Lincoln," she said, "tell me what's wrong...please?"

The tender earnest in her voice brought a lump to Lincoln's throat. He swallowed hard. "Promise not to think different of me?"

Her brow lifted quizzically, but she nodded anyway. "Promise."

Lincoln took a deep breath. "I found out yesterday...that I'm adopted."

"Is that all?"

Lincoln blinked, and she seemed to realize how insensitive that sound. "I mean...why would that matter to me?" She rubbed his arm awkwardly. "I don't hang out with you because of who your family is, I hang out with you because of who you are." She glanced nervously away, then met his eyes full on. "I like you a lot, Lincoln. You're a great guy."

Lincoln's heart raced and a smile touched his face. He didn't know what to say to that.

She got up and dragged her chair closer to him. Sitting again, she took his hand and drew a deep breath. Lincoln's eyes were drawn to her pink, moist lips which shimmered in the harsh florescent lighting. "I don't..." she stopped, not sure how to continue. "Screw it." She grabbed him by the face and drew his lips to hers. For a moment he was too shocked to respond, his heart crashing in his chest. What was happening? Then her tongue flicked across his mouth, and he came alive, parting his lips and kissing her deeply, his hand falling onto her leg when it felt like he was going to tip over.

Their tongues danced slowly and sweetly together in a swirl of electric sparks for what could have been years or only moments. When Ronnie Anne drew away, her eyes were wide and bright and her breathing was heavy. Lincoln could only gape. Did...did that really happen?

Ronnie Anne caught her breath and grinned. "Feeling better?"

Uh...was he feeling bad before? He couldn't remember: Everything leading up to this glorious moment was a blur. Where were they again?

He nodded. "I...I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

"So have I," she said and threaded her fingers through his.

"I thought you were too tough for this kind of thing," Lincoln teased.

She shrugged. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. I like you, we have fun, you're..." she glanced away, "...really sweet and stuff, you're...you're kind of perfect." She looked at him, "And letting you slip through my fingers would be a huge mistake." She squeezed his hand and smiled...then jabbed him in the chest with her finger. "But don't think I'm going all mushy and shit."

He laughed and rubbed his chest. "Okay, okay, you're not going mushy."

"Damn right I'm not," she smirked knowingly. She let his hand go and leaned back. She grabbed a fry from the basket and plopped it into her mouth. "So...how are you taking it?" she asked as she chewed.

Huh? Great, I'm really – oh, the adoption thing. Lincoln's mood darkened...but not by much. "Kind of hard. I mean..." he trailed off. He really didn't want to overload her on emotional stuff.

She looked at him. "Kind of hard, you mean...what?"

He sighed. "I don't want to be all feely." He cocked an eyebrow. "You're not mushy, remember?"

"I'm your girlfriend," she said as she plucked another fry from the basket, "nothing mushy about listening your boyfriend's problems and helping him out."

Girlfriend? Boyfriend?

In the last twenty-four hours, his life had been turned completely upside down...in some ways for the better...and in others for the worst. Wow.

This was totally for the better, though, smiley face emoji.

What was the question?

Oh. Yeah.

He sighed. "I just wonder...what if they stop loving me? Since I'm not really family."

"I have a suggestion," she said and took another fry.

"What?"

She looked him square in the face. "Get your head out of your ass."

"...huh?"

"Get your head out of your ass and smell the coffee or whatever. They obviously love you. I've been to your house before, and you know? I've always, you know, been kind of...I don't know...touched or some shit by how close you guys are. I mean...I'm really close with Bobby, and sometimes when we hang, I kind of think it's like you have ten Bobbys. Which I don't know is a good thing or a bad thing." She laughed.

Lincoln sighed. "I know. It makes me feel bad thinking that way, but...loving someone who's related to you is different than loving someone who isn't related to you. Blood is thicker than water."

"Yeah," she said, "and love is thicker than blood."

Lincoln glanced at her.

"Really, you're spazzing over nothing," she said, then blushed. "But you're kind of cute when you worry."

Lincoln couldn't help laughing. "You're cute when you blush."

"I am not blushing," she said.

"Yes you are," he grinned, "your face is all red."

"Exertion," she said, nodding toward the Dance Party game across the room.

"No," Lincoln said, "it's emotion."

She pursed her lips and threw a French fry at him.


	6. A Tangle of Emotions

**BoukenDutch: I have a hard time considering that episode cannon to this story – or to many of my other stories because what they did is pretty hard to come back from. As far as I'm concerned, it did not happen in the universe of "Thicker Than Blood."**

* * *

Lynn Loud drew back her foot and arched it down, kicking the ball dead center and sending it through the air like a cannonball. It slammed into the wood stockade fence with a loud thud and bounced back. She dove for it, but instead of hitting it off her head, she hit it off her face: She cried out as she crumpled to the ground, her nose aching. Damn it! She pressed her fingers to her nostrils, but they did not come away bloody.

Sighing angrily, she sat up and glared at the ball. "You suck," she said.

The ball didn't reply.

She got up, crossed to it, and kicked it again: It hit the fence and came back, but this time she ducked. Heh. She sighed and looked around the yard. The distant sound of children's laughter seasoned the warm September air; birds chirped happily from treetop perches, calling out to one another in high-pitched song. She remembered a cartoon drawing she saw once where these two people were listening to the birds and thinking how beautiful their songs were...and in actuality the birds were giving out crude mating calls. "Sit on my face!" "Netflix and Chill?" "Do me!" "No, do _me_!" She blushed and turned toward the ball.

She felt...alone.

So, so alone.

She wished Lincoln was here. Yeah, it might be kind of awkward, but suddenly she missed him so much it hurt. It almost felt like he was dead even though she knew he was just inside...virtual feet away, as close as he had ever been, but somehow far away now.

Flashing, she kicked the ground. This was stupid. She was stupid. She went over to the ball, scooped it up, and hurled it at the fence: It hit and bounced back. She cocked her fist and punched it, sending it up and over the fence into Mr. Grouse's yard. Fuck it. Let him have the damn thing. She didn't care about some stupid ball. She cared about her brother.

She went inside and grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge. Twisting the cap off, she went through the living room and climbed the stairs. At Lincoln's door, she took a deep breath and knocked. No reason to be weird. He's your little brother. She called up all the memories of him she could muster, and warmth spread through her.

No answer.

"Hey, uh, Linc?" she called, "it's me? You wanna play some football?"

She waited a minute, then opened the door.

His room, bathed in warm sunlight, was empty, and she felt a rush of disappointment. "You looking for Linc?" someone asked behind her, and she turned. Lori stood at the head of the stairs like she was coming up but paused.

"Yeah," Lynn said.

"He's out with Ronnie Anne."

"Oh. Okay."

Lori looked at her sister with a concerned expression. "Look...you've been kind of...off since yesterday. Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Lynn said, though she wasn't. She was feeling a million contradictory emotions and every time she tried to think through them she got tangled up and fell flat on her face. She loved Lincoln and she knew that it really didn't matter if they were related, but at the same time she couldn't help feeling different. Not in a good way or a bad way, just...in a way...and she didn't like it because Lincoln was so important to her.

"You sure?" Lori asked tenderly. "If you need to talk..."

"I'm fine," Lynn said, "I don't need to talk."

Only she did... but not to Lori, to Lincoln. Once she talked to him, she figured, she'd see that nothing had really changed and she could put all this behind her. Yeah. That sounded good; she wanted to put this behind her and get back to the way things were before.

She just had to power through like she did when she was tired or didn't feel like practicing. That was the ticket. Suck it up and power through...

* * *

Lincoln came through the door at half past noon, his head in the clouds and his feet barely touching the floor (if they were touching at all). He would have been inside ten minutes earlier, but he and Ronnie Anne took a while to say goodbye...and by that, he meant they sat on the porch step and kissed for almost fifteen minutes straight. He could still taste her lips on his, and he smiled. A part of him still couldn't believe this was actually happening...Ronnie Anne Santiago was really (and finally) his girlfriend. He'd wanted this for so long that he could barely remember a time when he didn't. A year ago? Three years ago? Fifty years ago? It seemed like forever...an endless expanse of time filled with longing, desperation, achy hearts and fluttery stomachs, dreams, wishes, hopes, and fantasies. And now...it was real.

He smiled and flopped down on the couch, not realizing Lucy was there until she spoke. "Hey, Linc."

"Hey," he said dreamily.

"You're happy," she said. "Why?"

"Ummm...no reason."

"You look like you're about to melt into a puddle of jelly."

Lincoln tossed one shoulder. "I might."

Lucy shrugged and turned back to the TV. If he was happy, so was she. After yesterday, he needed all the happiness he could get. "You wanna watch this movie with me?"

"Sure," he said, barely registering her question, "what is it?"

" _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_."

"What's it about?"

Lucy was silent for a minute. "A chainsaw massacre...in Texas."

He smiled at the thought of Ronnie Anne's eyes and hair...both dark...both mysterious and warm and beautiful. "Sounds nice."

On the screen, a woman covered in blood staggered away from a farmhouse; a weirdo with a mark on his face burst through the door and gave chase. Lucy saw the remake at a friend's house, but this was the original from the seventies. Even though it was old, it was somehow creepier.

Lincoln sighed happily, and Lucy glanced at him. He was staring at the screen but he obviously wasn't seeing the same thing she was: A dude with a weird mark on his face clutching the back of a girl's shirt and slicing her back with a straight razor while a three hundred pound man in a mask ran after them with a chainsaw. An almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. What happened to you, Linc?

She imagined it must have something to do with Ronnie Anne Santiago. He'd been with her all morning...and that goofy smile on his face could only have been put there by a girl. Unless he met Ace Savvy on the way home and was offered a job as his sidekick. Hmm...no, it was definitely a girl.

"Life is good, huh?" she asked.

Lincoln sighed. "Yeah. It's pretty sweet."

"You have a loving family...and a girlfriend." She watched for his reaction. Instead of jerking and coming out with the classic, 'she's not my girlfriend!' he nodded. "She's great."

Lucy smiled. Bingo. "A little rough around the edges."

Lincoln shrugged. "Not really. She just acts tough."

Lucy laid her hand on his knee. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," he said, and patted her hand.

On TV, a Mac truck smashed into the weird-face-mark-guy; he was sucked under the tires and crushed as bloody-screaming-final-girl looked on it horror.

"Uh...Lucy?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we watching?"

" _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_."

Lincoln cocked his head. "I don't know if this is appropriate for you."

Lucy laughed – literally and genuinely laughed. "Lincoln...I watched The Human Centipede at Haiku's house last weekend. That makes this look like Joel Olsteen." For a moment she was quiet. "I actually regret watching that movie."

Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder as someone came down the stairs. It was Lori, and when she saw him, she grinned. "There you are. You up for some time with your big sis?"

"Sure," he said. He glanced at the TV, where chainsaw guy was trying to cut his way through the driver door of the Mac truck. "I've had enough TV for now."

"Lightweight," Lucy said, and smacked his arm.

"Just give me, like, five minutes."

* * *

Lincoln gazed at the window as Lori changed lanes and passed a tractor trailer. The driver sat behind the wheel with one arm bent on the window...sill. Is that what it was called? Lincoln didn't know, and he really didn't care. He smiled as he thought of Ronnie Anne; the fear and anxiety nipped at the edges of his consciousness, but instead of the rabid dog it had been that morning, it was now an annoying mosquito easily ignored.

"You're in an awful good mood," Lori said playfully. Neither one had spoken for the last couple miles, each content simply to bask in the comfortable silence that can only exist between people who have long known – and loved – one another.

"Kind of," Lincoln said. Lori slowed as they passed through a work zone: Men in vests and hard hats stood around and watched as one – and only one – of their buddies dug a hole.

Lori made a thoughtful noise in the back of her throat and glanced at her little brother; she could see his reflection in the window, his eyes hazy and faraway, a tiny smirk on his lips. He looked much better than he had that morning, and that made her smile. Whatever happened after he left the house was just what he needed to get his mind off of things, and she was thankful for it. "Have a good date with Ronnie Anne?"

"Yeah," he said and his smile grew.

"What'd you guys do?"

He shrugged. "Went to the arcade. Played games. Ate French fries." He paused. "Kissed."

For a second Lori didn't think she heard him right. "You guys kissed?"

Lincoln nodded. He probably shouldn't have said anything, but he couldn't help it; maybe he was a dork, but he was really proud of himself.

"Way to go," Lori said appreciatively. "It took long enough."

"You know what they say," Lincoln said and turned to her, "good things come to those who wait."

Lori laughed. "That's true. Did you guys...like it?"

"All ten times we did it," Lincoln beamed. They didn't kiss that much, but it was a lot.

Lori glanced at him. "Good. I'm glad. You know...Bobby was telling me she's been talking a lot about you recently, like asking him for advice and stuff."

"Really?" Lincoln asked. He was kind of surprised...then again, he kind of wasn't. She did say she'd been doing a lot of 'thinking' lately. She's been planning this for a while, he thought, and that made him feel good. It wasn't a spur of the moment thing, it was premeditated and fully thought out.

Lori nodded as she took an off-ramp. The mall spread out along a narrow service road, a low concrete building with an arched front entrance. "He told me the other day 'She's gonna make a move on him soon.'" She laughed. She and Bobby had been betting on when Lincoln and Ronnie Anne would get together – really get together – for months. She didn't think it would happen for a while, but Bobby thought it would. "She likes him," he told her, "but she's just not there, you know?"

"Why not?" she had asked, genuinely mystified. "Lincoln's a great guy...he's, like, perfect boyfriend material." It made her feel kind of weird talking about her little brother like that, but it was true; he was everything you could want in a man, and Lori just didn't get what Ronnie Anne's problem was. It actually kind of annoyed her.

"She's been hurt before," Bobby explained. "A couple different guys she liked cheated on her, broke her heart, that sort of thing."

"Were they like Lincoln?"

"No," Bobby said. "They were little gangster wannabe losers."

You know, it's sad how love and relationships work. Men, for the most part, tend to snap back quickly from heartache. It's in their nature. Women, on the other hand, pull up the drawbridge and shoot poison arrows at anyone who tries to get in, often times pushing away good guys like Lincoln...all because some asshole fucked them over in the past. The way they hung out and had fun together, Lori knew Ronnie Anne would eventually let him in, but when was the question; she figured it'd be another couple months at least.

"She kind of did," Lincoln said presently. "I mean...she totally did, but it was after I told her about...about me being adopted."

Lori noted the hitch in his voice. She spun the wheel and guided the van into a parking spot between a purple VW Beetle and a red Dodge Ram. "What'd she have to say about that?"

Lincoln leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes as he recalled the scene. "She said...'that doesn't matter to me, I don't hang out with you because of who your family is, I hang out with you because of who you are.'"

Lori's heart literally melted and she couldn't keep an "Awwww" from slipping out. Lincoln blushed and hurriedly looked away. "That's so sweet." She ruffled his hair. "And coming from Ronnie Anne, like, the most romantic thing ever." Lincoln pulled away, but he was grinning...and _really_ blushing. He looked like he was going to catch on fire. "Our little Lincy's growing up. Pretty soon you guys are gonna get married and have kids..."

She laughed when his eyes went wide. "Slow down, I'm only eleven!"

"I said soon, not now," she said, and got out.

"Not too soon," Lincoln said as he opened his door and jumped out. They met at the back of the van. Lori laid her hand on his back and they started toward the front entrance.

"Mom was twenty-one when she had me," Lori said. "That's a pretty good age to start."

"I don't know," Lincoln replied. "That seems kind of young." He'd never really thought about having kids, but if he did, he'd want them later on, after college and having a good job for a while.

They were going through the doors now. "Best to get having kids out of the way early, I guess" she said.

"If that was M-Mom's plan, she failed." Lincoln hesitated on the word Mom. He knew it was wrong, but calling her that now felt...almost like a lie.

Lori snorted laughter. "She's going to be collecting social security and still have babies in the house."

The mall was filled with people, some shopping, some simply hanging out. A group of skater kids sat by the fountain. They wore black T-shirts and ripped jeans; one wore a toboggan even though it was warm outside. Lori led the way, taking a left at the food court. The comic book store was down this way.

"Do you think she'll have more?" he asked.

"Knowing her and Dad, she's probably already pregnant."

Lincoln didn't know how to feel about that. What if...what if they had a son and didn't want him around anymore? Why keep the substitute when you finally have the real thing?

Cold terror swept through him, and he tensed under Lori's touch. Her brow furrowed. "You okay, Linc?" she asked.

He nodded quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."

What would they do with him? Leave him on the curb for the garbage men to take away? Take him back to wherever they got him and walk away as though she last eleven years had never happened, their new son – their real son – cradled in their arms?

No. They wouldn't do that to me. They love me.

Like a kid loves their dad's old Nintendo 64 until Christmas morning when he opens up a brand new X-Box One, then suddenly the N64 is relegated to a corner...unloved...unwanted.

Just like him.

Lori stopped him and knelt, her eyes soft and caring. "Something's wrong, Linc. I know you. Please tell me."

People streamed by on either side of them, making Lincoln uncomfortable. "Lori, we're blocking..."

"I don't care," she said, "what's wrong?"

He chafed under her gaze, his heart beginning to race. He looked away. He knew how it would sound...he'd come across as an unappreciative monster.

She touched his cheek and tilted his head so that his eyes locked with hers. "Please?"

"I was just thinking if they had a son they wouldn't want me anymore," he said, then quickly added, "I know it's stupid and I'm sorry."

"Linc," she said softly, "that would literally never happen. We love you. I love you. Everyone loves you." She smiled. "Remember when you overheard Mom and Dad talking and we thought they were going to kick us out? Then we thought they were just going to kick you out?"

Lincoln nodded slowly. He did remember that now that she mentioned it...he'd never been so scared in his life. Up until now, that is.

"And remember how we wouldn't let you go, so we all stormed into their room ready to rip them apart?"

Lincoln nodded.

"If they tried to give you up – which they never would – they'd have ten pissed off girls to deal with." She smiled and patted his cheek. " _They'd_ be the ones gotten rid of."

Lincoln smiled despite himself. He recalled how angry they were thinking that Mom and Dad were going to make him leave, and how they came to his defense with little to no thought about themselves. He remembered being overwhelmed with emotion that day, so much so that when he was alone he cried; he was so lucky, he thought, to have sisters who cared so much about him.

"Mom and Dad love you just as much as they love any of us," Lori said, "it doesn't make any difference to them that you're adopted, and it doesn't make any difference to us. We're your family, Linc, and you're ours."

"I guess I'm just being a baby," he said, and looked away.

"No, you're not," she said. "You're going through a lot. I get it. Just know that if Mom and Dad ever tried to get rid of you, they'd have to get rid of us all, because you're our only brother, and we're not going to let you go." She stood and ruffled his hair. "You aren't going to get rid of us that easily, Linc. You're stuck with us."

Lincoln surprised himself by throwing his arms around her waist. "I'm happy to be stuck with you guys," he said.

"So are we," she replied, and hugged him back, holding him tightly _. I'll never let you go, Linc,_ she vowed. _You'll always be my little brother, and I'll always love you...no matter what._

"Come on," she said, and slipped her arm around his shoulder. "We got a comic book store to raid."

Lincoln held Lori's waist and leaned his head against her hip: There wasn't much meat on it and her bones poked him, but he didn't care. He relished the warmth and closeness of his big sister. _Please never let me go_ , he thought, _always love me the way you do now._


	7. Talk Between Sisters

**BoukenDutch: I'm not entirely decided. I'm leaning toward no. Most of the more outlandishly awful stuff didn't happen, or if it did it could be said to have happened differently. In this universe, they** _ **have**_ **fought, they** _ **have**_ **picked on one another, they** _ **have**_ **sometimes mistreated Lincoln (and each other), but nothing as off-the-wall as** _ **No Such Luck**_ **. That particular story might work for a cartoon, but to be perfectly honest, I don't write as though it's a cartoon, I write as though it's real...as much as possible, that is, and there's absolutely no way to translate certain episodes or scenes into a "real life" story without them becoming ten times more awful than they were in the show. As far as the** _ **Not A Loud**_ **episode, I had no idea it even existed until someone mentioned it, and it will have no bearing whatsoever on this story. The bombshell happens in the chapter after next, which will most likely be out Thursday.**

* * *

Monday morning. The shrill cry of the alarm brought Lincoln Loud out of a thin and nightmare haunted sleep, its ear-piercing wail worming into the middle of his head and raking his brain like the jagged nails of a living corpse. He sighed, rolled over, and slapped theOFF button. Murky gray light pressed against the edges of the curtain, and when he stopped to listen, he could hear the hiss of rain in the street.

For a while he lay snuggled under the covers, the dreams of the night before lingering in his mind. In one, he got out of bed in the morning and went out into the hall, only to discover that he was a ghost: His sisters couldn't hear him no matter how desperately he cried their names, couldn't see him no matter how he waved his hand in front of their faces, and couldn't feel him no matter how hard he shook them. In another, Mom was pregnant with a boy and everyone voted to send him away. You've been a fine son and all, Dad said, but your services are no longer needed. Each time he woke from one of these dreams, his heart slamming and his lungs bursting, he remembered what Lori said at the mall on Saturday, and he would feel a little better, but when he slipped back into unconsciousness, his uneasy brain returned to spinning tales of him being abandoned or given up.

That's not going to happen, he told himself now.

All Sunday, he found himself watching for signs of his parents treating him differently; did they treat his sisters better? Did they get more food at dinner? Did they get better things? Did they get things period while he did not? Did Mom and Dad hug and kiss them more often than they hugged and kissed him?

From what he could see, they did not. In his room, he took stock of all his things: His X-Box One (which wasn't cheap), his video games, his stacks and stacks of comics. Was there anything he wanted that they never let him have? He didn't think so. Was there anything he wanted but did not have, regardless of why? He thought long and hard, and finally decided there was not. A few video games, maybe, but those don't just magically appear in your hand, even if you aren't adopted. He had everything he needed and everything he could possibly want. He was being ridiculous and on some level he realized that 100 percent. Still, he felt like something was...like something just wasn't right.

Was it Lynn?

Partly, he supposed. She was still acting funny: She didn't ask him to play with her, she barely talked to him, and when they were in the same room, her discomfort was palatable. He wouldn't say, even to Mom or Lori, but it really bothered him; on Saturday night he cried over it. He missed her so much it hurt, and when he thought of it being like this from here on out, his heart ached and his stomach felt sick. Maybe Lori and Leni and Luna and Luan and Lucy and Lola and Lana and Lisa and Lilly still loved him, but Lynn didn't, and losing one of his sisters hurt just the same as losing them all.

Sighing sadly, Lincoln swung his legs out from under the covers and got up, the cool air raking painfully across his warm flesh. At his dresser, he took out a pair of jeans and pulled them on, followed by an orange polo shirt; he was self-conscious about being in his underwear around them. Part of him said he was stupid...they'd seen him in his underwear a million times and it had never been an issue before...but another part, a much, much larger part just wasn't comfortable with the idea anymore. Yesterday, trapped inside by the pouring rain, he and his siblings gathered in the living room, him with his comic and the others with their preferred rainy day object: Luna with her radio, Lynn with a hacky-sack, Luan with Mr. Coconuts. His first instinct was to strip out of his clothes because reading comics was so much comfier when done in one's underwear, but the prospect brought a blush to his face and made him feel jittery. He glanced around the room at his sisters' faces...imagined them looking at him...the knowledge of his otherness heavy between then...and couldn't do it.

So he sat in the armchair and tried a thousand ways to get comfy, failing miserably each time. Luna noticed at one point and frowned. "You alright, bro?"

"Never better," he said with a nervous smile. He shot her a thumbs' up for good measure.

"You look uncomfortable."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Why don't you lose the pants and shirt?"

"I'm good, thanks," he said quickly. He could feel her frowning at him, but he ignored it. She meant well...they all did...it was him, not them.

Presently, he went into the hall. Lisa, Lucy, Luan, and Lynn were waiting in line for the bathroom. When he saw Lynn, his heart bounced into his throat and he almost turned around and went back into his room. Just knowing that Lynn didn't like him anymore was bad enough, but he didn't think he could stand to see it in her eyes: He would probably break down right there in the hall, and everyone would sneer at him because really, stop being a baby.

Instead, he took a deep breath and steeled himself. Maybe she didn't think of him as her brother, but to him, she was still his sister and he still loved her and he couldn't avoid her forever. One of the things he admired most about her was the way she 'powered through.' That's what she called it. If she was sick or tired or just felt lazy, she would reach down really deep, find the energy, and do whatever it was she didn't want to do.

Lincoln didn't realize Luan was looking at him until she spoke. "Hey, Linc, you okay?" Her brow was cocked and her head was tilted to one side. Lynn glanced over her shoulder at him and then quickly away with a muttered, 'H-Hey.'

"I'm fine," Lincoln said even though he wasn't. Power through, power through.

"You look like you saw a ghost," Luan said, and forced a smile. "Too much ARRGH last night?"

No, actually, he didn't watch ARRGH last night. He just wasn't in the mood.

"Yeah," he said and got in line, his heart pounding. He made sure to keep a respectable distance between him and Lynn...enough to stick his arm out entirely without touching her. Luan looked at him strangely, and he flashed a nervous smile. I'm fine, really.

She ducked around Lynn. "You can have my spot," she said absently to her sister as she fell in behind Lincoln. Her hand was cool on his shoulder and sent a not entirely pleasant shiver down his spine. "You okay?" she asked seriously.

"I'm fine," he lied. He was working through his shit; he didn't need to bother his sisters with it. They'd done enough already.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"I don't think you are." With that, she wrapped her arms around his back and dug her fingers into his stomach, wiggling them against his skin.

He leapt and thrashed. "Stop!" he cried, laughing even though he didn't want to. "I'm ticklish!"

"Are you?" Luan asked as he tickled harder. "I don't know, I think we should test that hypothesis."

Lincoln's knees gave out and he dropped to the floor, Luan kneeling and not missing a beat. "I'm gonna pee!" he cried. "Stop!"

She let him go, and he jumped to his feet, his chest rising and falling. She looked up from her knees, a grin on her face. "Yup, you're ticklish alright."

"I told you that," he said, smiling.

She shrugged as she stood, "If I can't take everyone at their word, Linc. That's how you wind up believing in Bigfoot and the flat earth theory."

Lincoln opened his mouth to argue, but she was kind of right.

Over the next ten minutes, the line got shorter and shorter. Finally, Lynn went in, and Lincoln could hear the shower cut on. He and Luan were the only ones waiting now.

"I know something's wrong," she said. "You looked like shit when you came out of your room. What is it?"

Lincoln sighed. "Nothing. I just..." he trailed off. He didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want to tell her the truth either...and he couldn't not talk to her. What should he do?

She squeezed his shoulder. "Do I have to tickle it out of you, Linc?"

Lincoln's heart clutched. If she tickled him like she did the last time, he would pee himself, and the thought of peeing on himself was not a happy one. She's your family and she wants to help...talk to her.

"It's Lynn," he forced. "S-She doesn't love me anymore."

Shocked silence.

"Linc," Luan said and squeezed his shoulder again, "of course she does."

"No, she doesn't," he replied, his eyes starting to water. He blinked and pursed his lips, the storm threatening to overwhelm him. He held it at bay, though.

Luan wrapped one arm around his shoulders and pulled him against her. "Lincoln, we all love you. You know that."

"But she's been acting really weird," Lincoln said.

"Yeah," Luan said. She'd noticed. "But so are you. She didn't know, either, Linc. She's dealing with this just the same as you,"

Lincoln sighed. He'd considered that. His younger sisters were taking it well, though. His relationship with Lucy, Lola, Lana, and Lisa hadn't changed. Just yesterday Lola snagged him from the hallway and made him watch her model outfits for almost two hours. Before, he would have been bored to tears and trying to come up with an escape plan; that Sunday afternoon, however, he enjoyed every minute of it, even asking her to put on an outfit she'd already modeled "Because I'm having second thoughts." After that, Lana insisted he help her with fixing hers and Lola's battery-powered Jeep. Because of the rain, they worked in the shed, and though all he did was hold a flashlight over the engine block for an hour while Lana cussed with frustration (should he admonish her? Did he even have a right anymore?), he cherished their time together.

"I promise you, Linc," Luan said now, hugging him, "she still loves you. She's just coming to terms."

Sudden hope rose in his chest, but he was reluctant to feed or cultivate it.

In the bathroom, the shower cut out, and Lincoln swallowed hard. Luan certainly believed what she was saying, but was she right? Did Lynn really still love him? Was she really hit that hard by finding out he was adopted? Why? He was the one who suddenly didn't have a family, not her.

Well...a real family.

A blood family. They were his family and they loved him, okay, but there was a deeper relational dimension that he felt he'd lost. Lynn didn't. She still had that. She was a Loud through and through.

Luan must have sensed his distress, because she kissed the top of his head and hugged him tighter. "Family is forever, Linc, and even though we might piss each other off, we always hug and kiss in the end, don't we?"

"Yeah. What did I do to piss Lynn off, though?"

"Nothing, Linc," she said. "The point is, we're a family and no matter what, we'll always love each other because that's how families work. You might...you might not feel like you're part of this family, but you are...one of the best parts, if you ask me." She hugged him closer.

Lincoln smiled. "I love you guys. I really appreciate all you've done."

"Don't mention it," she said. "That's what sisters are for."

The door opened, and Lynn came out, her eyes darting away from his; she brushed past and hurried to her room. Luan looked after her, a frown on her face. She was sure Lynn's feelings hadn't changed (she couldn't be certain, though, but can you ever?), but she really needed a wake-up call. She might not be meaning to, but she was hurting Lincoln at a time when he needed her to be there for him 100 percent.

She kissed Lincoln's cheek and let him go. "Don't worry about it, Linc. It's all going to be okay."

Lincoln wished he could believe her, he really did, but he couldn't, at least not fully.

In the bathroom, he stripped out of his briefs, peed, then climbed into the shower. He turned it as hot as he could stand and let the water beat soothingly against him. He did his best not to think about Lynn or anything else having to do with being adopted, but he found himself wondering, not for the first time, just who he really was. Who was his mother? What was her name, what did she look like? And what was wrong with her? Mom – his real-but-not-really mom – said she was sick in her head, and saying that is a polite way of saying someone's crazy. Where was he adopted from? Here in Royal Woods? If so, how many times had he walked past an uncle or a cousin and not known? How many times had he walked past, say, his real grandmother's house, or the house where his real father lived as a kid, and taken no special notice? And did any potential family members know who he was, or were they just as ignorant as he was?

Part of him cared...and another part didn't. Lori and Luan were right, the Louds were his family even if they weren't really his family. They loved him and accepted him...even if sometimes lately he thought they didn't.

He felt guilty again...thinking they were going to kick him aside after they had shown him time and again how much they cared for him...he might as well just spit in their faces and be done with it.

Sighing, he squeezed shampoo onto his head and ran his hands through his hair. There was one bright spot today: He'd get to see Ronnie Anne. That made him smile. Yesterday she texted him and asked if he wanted to walk to school with her. Of course he said yes. She said she'd be here at 7:30, which gave him just enough time to scarf down breakfast. He should really hurry up here. He rinsed his hair and cut the stream. He grabbed his towel, dried his head, then wrapped it around his body and stepped out. At the sink, he opened the medicine cabinet, grabbed his deodorant, and applied a generous amount to each armpit. He didn't want to stink.

He kind of wished he had some cologne.

Oh well. He put on a little bit more deodorant just to be sure, then hurriedly brushed his teeth. When he opened the door, Luan was waiting with her arms crossed. She smiled. "You look much better."

He shrugged. "I just gave what you said some thought," he said, and felt bad because that wasn't the truth, at least not entirely. He was giving Ronnie Anne some thought.

"Good," she said with a nod. "Now get out of the way, I have to pee _reaaally_ bad."

* * *

Lynn Loud sat on the edge of the bed and slowly pulled her shoes on. Her head was bowed in a gesture of misery and her shoulders were slumped as if under a great weight. She was ashamed of herself for chickening out when it came to talking to Lincoln; she had Saturday afternoon and all Sunday to do it, but every time she made up her mind, she froze.

She tied her laces and sighed at the memory of the previous night's dream: Mom and Dad never adopted Lincoln, but somehow she knew about him and missed him so much she woke up crying. She recalled the intense emptiness she felt, the total and overwhelming sense that something was missing, and hugged herself against a deep, spiritual chill: Not having Lincoln in her life was unthinkable.

She had to talk to him, had to let him know how she felt, but the main thing stopping her was the fear that things would be different between them, that the connection they had made and fostered their entire lives would disestablished and that they would never, ever get it back.

That scared her because she loved Lincoln.

Why does this have to be so goddamn hard? she thought angrily.

She got up, grabbed her gym bag from her dresser, and went downstairs. Her siblings were gathered at the dining room table with their morning cereal. Lincoln sat between Luna and Luan, facing away from her. She ached to reach out and touch him, but didn't.

Lana turned to Lola and said something through a mouthful of Lucky Charms, and Lola held her hand up. "Your breath smells like the back end of a garbage truck. Don't talk to me."

"Oh, so it smells like your butt?" Lana retorted.

"Lola, that was mean," Lori said, setting her phone aside and fixing her with a maternal look. "And so was that, Lana."

The twins both looked at Lori with raised eyebrows. "Since when do you care?" Lola asked.

"Since I decided to become a better sister," Lori said.

Lola and Lana looked at each other.

"These morning teasing sessions get way out of hand," Lori went on, "sometimes we can be really mean to each other, and we shouldn't. We're family."

In the kitchen, Lynn grabbed a sports bar from the pantry, leaned against the counter, and ripped it open. Soon...soon she'd talk to Linc...she just needed to get herself psyched up. She took a bite but there was no taste, and swallowing was hard. Yeah, this shit had to end. Lincoln was her brother whether they had the same blood in their veins or not, and things would not be different between them. There might be a little awkwardness at first, but they'd get over it. No big. As for what to say...she didn't have to be fancy, just a quick Hey, bro, we're good.

Simple.

She took another bite from the bar, then tossed it into the trash. It was a little early, but she'd leave now...clear her head. She went through the dining room and into the living room, oblivious to Lincoln's furtive glance. Luan, however, was not; she saw it, and the quick flash of sadness she saw on her brother's face made her frown. Sighing, she grabbed her backpack from the back of her chair and went after Lynn, reaching the front door just as the younger girl started down the sidewalk.

"Luan," Lori called, "your bowl."

"I'll get it," Lincoln said quickly.

She opened her mouth to reply, to apologize and thank Lincoln, but Lynn was hurrying away like she had to be somewhere fifteen minutes ago. Luan slipped out, shut the door behind her, and rushed after her sister. "Hey, Lynn!" she called. "Wait up!"

Lynn glanced over her shoulder and stopped, her brow furrowing. "We need to talk," Luan said.

"Alright," Lynn said, starting to walk again. "Talk."

She was moving so quickly that Luan had to practically jog to keep up with her. Luan took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. "I know you're still coming to grips with Lincoln being adopted, I get it...but he thinks you hate him."

Lynn came to a sudden stop and whipped her head around. "What?"

"You've been kind of distant and he thinks you don't love him anymore."

Lynn visibly flinched.

"I know you're dealing with it just like he is," Luan said quickly, "it's an adjustment. It took me a little while to get used to it too." Her mind flashed back to the jealousy she felt toward baby Lincoln, and then to her conditional acceptance of him...she loved him, but he wasn't really her brother. With every passing day, however, their bond deepened until he was he brother...period. She couldn't imagine her life without him nor did she want to.

Lynn sighed miserably and looked away. "I do love him, I just...I spent my whole life believing something, then I find out it isn't true and he's not my brother and it...it hurts, Luan. It hurts so bad."

Teardrops slid down Lynn's face. Luan touched her sister's cheek and tilted her head up until they were looking into one another's eyes. "He is your brother. Whether he's related to us or not is irrelevant."

"I know," Lynn moaned.

"He needs us, Lynn. He needs us to be there for him...the way he's always been there for us."

All of the emotions Lynn had been struggling against since Saturday afternoon burst forth and she broke down crying. Luan put her arms around her younger sister and held her as loud, hitching sobs wracked her body. "It's okay," Luan whispered and stroked Lynn's hair.

"No it's not! I'm a terrible sister!" She wept harder, burying her face into Luan's shoulder.

"No, you're not."

Lynn nodded. "I'm gonna be there," she said through her tears, "I'm gonna be there for him."

"Just remember," Luan said, "he's Lincoln...your loving little brother...just like he always has been."

Lynn nodded again. Luan was right. What had she been thinking the past few days? "I'm gonna talk to him," Lynn said, making up her mind. "Today."

"He'd like that," Luan said, and smiled. "It would probably make his day."

"Mine too," Lynn said, and it would.

It would make her whole life.


	8. Her Brother, His Sister

**Guest: Thank you. I think a large part of the fandom sees me as some sort of hissing, spitting demon, and just can't get over it when I don't sink my fangs into their throat and suck out their soul.**

 **King Genocide: Maybe...**

 **Zoinks81: Thank you. I really appreciate that. Writing has long been my passion and I've spent the past ten years trying to improve, just as I'll probably spend the next ten years, and the next ten years, and the next ten years...**

 **AberrantScript: You're looking through a dirty window, so of course everything looks dirty...**

* * *

Lincoln Loud smiled goofily when he came outside and saw Ronnie Anne waiting for him at the end of the walkway, his dream and the lingering anxiety draining instantly away. She looked up and grinned mischievously, and Lincoln's heart skipped a beat. He came down the stairs and walked up to her on numb legs. "Hey, lame-o," she said.

"Hey, lame-ette."

She uttered a shocked laugh. "Lame-ette, huh?"

"Lame-ette," he confirmed.

"You're lucky I like you," she said as she leaned in. Their lips brushed together and their tongues touched in intimate greeting. "Or else I'd kick your ass." She surprised him by grabbing his hand and threading her fingers through his. "How are you doing?" she asked as she practically dragged him down the sidewalk.

He shrugged. "Better...now."

"Stop kissing my ass," she said, favoring him with a sidelong glance. "You know what I meant."

Yeah. He knew what she meant. "Honestly," he said, blushing, "I wasn't feeling too good then I saw you and...I got better."

She smiled and bowed her head, her cheeks turning a deep red, which made Lincoln smile. He couldn't remember Ronnie Anne ever blushing like that, not even on Saturday when they kissed for the first time. The fact that he, Lincoln Loud, the perennial geek, had that effect on her, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, astonished him. What does she see in me? he wondered as he squeezed her hand; she squeezed back. "I'm glad I could help," she said.

"So am I."

"Other than me," she looked at him, "how is it?"

Lincoln thought for a moment.

"And don't lie to me, lame-o, or I _will_ kick your ass."

Lincoln laughed. "Alright, down, girl."

She nudged him in the ribs.

"I have nightmares...like...about them abandoning me. I know in my head they won't, but...I don't know, it still kind of bothers me."

Ronnie Anne nodded. "It's probably going to bother you for a while," she said. "But you'll see, you know, over time. It won't happen. And if it does you can always come live with me." She glanced at him with a cute little smirk.

While that thought was appealing, the thought of losing his family was not. He appreciated the offer, though, and he squeezed her hand again.

When they got to school fifteen minutes later, they kissed again and parted ways. Lincoln was kind of surprised by how unconcerned she was with kissing him and holding his hand in public. Just a few short weeks ago, the idea of looking 'mushy' in front of people would have made her keel over in shame.

She must really like me, he thought, and smiled. He was honestly starting to wonder if she did or not, but now...there was no doubt and he was so happy that all of the other stuff was momentarily unimportant.

At lunch, he grabbed his tray and sat in his usual spot. Clyde came over a few minutes later and took the seat next to him. "There he is," Clyde said. "I thought you died, buddy. Haven't seen or heard from you in a while."

Lincoln was watching for Ronnie Anne. "Yeah," he said absently, "I had kind of a wild weekend."

"Oh?" Clyde asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you make your sisters mad and spend the whole weekend trying to make it up to them?"

"No," Lincoln said. A few kids came into the cafeteria, but none of them were Ronnie Anne. My girlfriend. He grinned.

Clyde made a thoughtful hmmm sound. "Did you stumble across a smuggling ring and get kidnapped only for your sisters to rescue you?"

Lincoln looked at his friend. "What is this, The Hardy Boys?"

Clyde shrugged. "I'm just throwing out guesses here. You really didn't give me much to work with. 'Wild' could me anything from totally awesome to totally...uh...not awesome. How was your weekend wild?"

Lincoln thought for a moment. Should he say anything? Then it occurred to him that Clyde was adopted too, which meant he was the perfect person to talk to. "I found out I'm adopted," he said.

Clyde's jaw dropped. "You?"

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah. Me."

"That's great!" His eyes widened and he threw up his hands. "I mean...it's great that we have that in common. Wow. You're adopted? I never would have guessed in a million years." He shook his head. "You must be going through a lot right now."

"Yeah," Lincoln admitted, still scanning the cafeteria. "It's been hard." He looked at Clyde. "Do you ever...worry that your dads will stop loving you?"

Opening his milk, Clyde nodded. "Sometimes. Not so much anymore because I've been with them for a while, but when they first adopted me I worried all the time. That's why I started seeing Dr. Lopez. It really bothered me. But over time I came to see how much they love me and I got over it. For the most part." He took a sip. "I've been over to your house and I've seen how you and your family get along. Dude, they love you."

Lincoln sighed. "I know. I'm worried that they'll stop."

Clyde chuckled. "Lincoln...remember that time we posted that embarrassing video of all your sisters online and they got pissed?"

Lincoln nodded. In the pursuit of winning an award, he uploaded a video of his sisters' most embarrassing moments and shared it with the entire world. In hindsight, it was a pretty obviously bad idea – mean too – but at the time his brain was clouded with the desire to finally get into the family trophy case. When they found out...they were furious. To say the least.

"You had to make it right, which is how human relationships work, but didn't they forgive you? In the end, didn't they all hug and kiss you and...all that stuff?"

They did...after he posted an even more embarrassing video of himself. His logic was: He couldn't unembarrass his sisters, so he'd embarrass himself right along with them. It was literally the least he could do. After all, he did deserve it.

"I mean...there's been a lot of other stuff too. You got Lynn's bike stolen, the sweet spot thing...if none of your sisters stopped loving you then, why would they stop now? Think about it, that video you posted alone would be enough to make them stop loving you if they had it in them to do so, but they didn't, did they?"

"No," Lincoln admitted.

"That's right. After all you guys have been through, you think they're going to wake up one morning and say 'Gee, you know what? I don't love Lincoln anymore. Screw him'?"

Lincoln thought for a moment. When you put it like that, worrying that his parents or his sisters would stop loving him didn't make sense. Clyde was right, he'd done a lot things that hurt, irritated, annoyed, and angered his sisters...and no matter how upset they got, they always made up in the end.

"I still worry, though," he said.

"And you're going to. That's natural. You know what Dr. Lopez says? She says 'Take it one step at a time.' Don't worry about next month or next week or even tomorrow, just put one foot in front of the other and focus on that. Before you know it, you'll be six months down the road and nothing will be different. Your family will still love you, you'll argue and make up, you'll hug and kiss and bicker and all that stuff because you're a family and that's what families do."

Lincoln considered his words. He was right...mostly. "Well, yeah, but...Lynn's been kind of weird since we found out."

Clyde took another sip of his milk. "Did she know?"

"That I was adopted? No."

"Lori knew, right? And Leni? I mean, they're old enough to have remembered."

"Yeah. Lori, Leni, Luna, and Luan knew."

"Lynn's going through kind of the same thing you are. It's common for siblings who find out their brother or sister is adopted to experience the same emotions. You were her brother for her whole life, then you aren't...at least as far as blood goes...man, that's a shock, right?"

"Yeah."

"And Lynn's never been good with her emotions, so she's probably in tangles and doesn't know what to say. Let me ask you: Do you feel...uncomfortable? Like, at home?"

Lincoln nodded. He did. He felt like he was at a friend's house...he was welcome, but it wasn't really home.

"Alright, first of all, you shouldn't. Second, she's probably uncomfortable too. Have you talked to her?"

"No."

"Well, you need to. You need to sit her down and be honest about how you feel. I assume it upsets you, right?"

He nodded. It did upset him. A lot.

"Tell her that. I'm sure she doesn't mean to make you feel that way, it's just hard for her. Like it is for you."

Lincoln carefully turned Clyde's words over in his head. "I hope you're right," he said. "I...I love Lynn and I don't want to lose her."

"You won't," Clyde said confidently. "Just be open with her. Express your concerns clearly and concisely, and I guarantee it'll be okay."

Lincoln hoped he was right; he hoped very deeply.

"Wow, McBride," Ronnie Anne said, and Lincoln jerked. She was sitting across from him, her arms crossed on the table. Lincoln had no idea she was there, or how long she had been there. "You're a pretty good shrink."

"I see one often enough," Clyde said. "And, you know...I think that's what I wanna do. Help people. Who better to be a shrink than someone who's messed up themselves, right?"

Ronnie Anne looked at Lincoln and nodded. "I never thought I'd say it, but dude's 100 percent right." She plucked an apple off her tray and took a crisp bite. "Talk to Lynn," she said, her mouth full, "tell her what's up, and that's that. You guys will be...I don't know what you guys do together, ball or some shit? You guys will be playing ball and giggling like little girls in no time."

Lincoln chuckled. He had his misgivings, but they were right. He had to talk to her.

"Thanks, guys," he said, "you're awesome."

"Damn right I am," Ronnie Anne said. She leaned forward and punched Lincoln in the arm.

"Happy to help," Clyde said absently as he picked up a slice of bread. "Now to help myself."

* * *

The rain tapered off around noon, and for a while gray sunlight filled the day. By two, however, the sky turned dark and it began to pour again. Lynn Loud sat edgily in study hall and waited for the announcement that was sure to come. Fifteen minutes before the final bell, the PA system kicked on and, yup, practice was canceled. Lovely. Call her old fashioned, but why in the hell would you cancel football practice because of rain? It's football not some pansy rugby or cricket or something. Part of her was bitterly disappointed because she wanted to get out the nervous energy that had been building all day, but another part was not, because the sooner she got home, the sooner she could talk to Lincoln. Just knowing that he was out there thinking she didn't love him anymore killed her inside, and several times she'd considered calling his cell, but decided against it: This is the kind of thing you had to do in person, and while the thought of...like...opening up and being sappy made her cheeks burn, Lincoln was worth it.

No chickening out this time, she told herself.

This had to be done today.

When the bell rang, she gathered her things and went to her locker, put them away, and grabbed her gym bag, which she slung over her shoulder. She took out her phone and opened the text she was expecting. It was from Lori. "I'm picking you up."

She waited by the front door and scanned the street for the van: Currents of rain water sluiced through the gutters and swept yellow leaves downstream like debris in a flood. By the time the van pulled up, the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Ducking her head, she went through the door and hurried to the van, climbing into the back. Leni was in the passenger seat and Luna and Luan were in the back, Luan laughing hysterically and Luna shaking her head, mild annoyance written across her face. Lynn slid in next to the window.

"How was your day?" Lori asked, glancing into the rearview mirror.

"Alright," Lynn said absently. She gazed out the window as they got underway, passing the football field: Big puddles of water dotted the sodden ground. Oh, okay. Lynn could see why they canceled practice.

"Anything exciting happen?"

What's with Lori? She was starting to act like Mom. Lynn's mind flashed back to that morning. Didn't she say she was trying to be a better sister or something? "I dropped my bread on the floor at lunch," Lynn said. "That's about it."

"You didn't eat it, did you?"

Lynn snorted. "Of course I did. Five second rule."

"That's gross," Lori said and shuddered. "God only knows what's on those floors. Cancer, AIDS, Superflu..."

"Dirt," Leni offered.

"That's the least of it," Lori replied, turning onto Pine Street. The elementary school was two blocks north. "Industrial cleaner."

"I'm fine," Lynn sighed. "I've eaten stuff off the floor before."

"Ew, why?" Leni asked.

Lynn threw her head back. "Because I'm not going to let my lunch go to waste just because I dropped it on the floor. I need my game fuel."

"Like, if you keep eating stuff off the floor the only game you're going to be playing is doctor," Leni said. "And totes not in a sexy way."

"Shut up."

Lori's eyes hardened in the mirror. "Lynn, that wasn't very nice,"

Lynn opened her mouth to rip Lori apart, but stopped herself and drew a deep breath. Lori was onto something with being a better sister. She herself wasn't the best sister in the world when you got right down to it. Look how she'd been treating Lincoln...sure, she didn't mean to, but that didn't make it any less messed up.

"I'm sorry, Leni," Lynn said tightly.

"Thank you," Lori said happily.

Leni turned, narrowed her eyes, then pointed from her own face to Lynn's. "I'm watching you." Then she smiled. "J/K. I forgive you."

They were turning into the elementary school now, the rain having picked back up. A crowd of kids waited under the front entrance overhang. Lynn scanned their faces, and found Lincoln. Lucy, Lisa, Lola, and Lana were clustered around him, Lucy talking and Lincoln seeming to listen. He saw the van, pointed, and they rushed over in a big group, Lincoln reaching it first and opening the door for his younger sisters. "Thank you, Lincoln," Lisa said as she climbed in. "Thank you, Lincoln," Lana said. Lola nodded haughtily, then Lucy said a simple, "Thanks."

The whole time he stood there getting wet. Lynn smiled. Just like Lincoln, looking out for his sisters first. He really was the best brother any of them could have asked for, and that made Lynn feel even worse.

"Hey, guys, how was your day?" Lori asked as she navigated past an idling school bus.

"Wicked," Lucy said. "We got to dissect a frog."

"Uh, that's gross," Lola said. Then smiled viciously. "Lindsey Sweetwater spilled chocolate pudding _all_ over her dress at lunch and had to walk around with a big brown stain on her dress for the rest of the day. She looked so ashamed." She laughed.

"Lincoln?" Lori asked. "You?"

"Pretty good," he said honestly.

"Did you get to see Ronnie Anne?" she drew 'Ronnie Anne'playfully out.

Lincoln grinned and ducked his head. "Yeah, I got to see her."

"So are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend yet?" Luna asked from the back. "She needs to make a move if not."

"Yeah," Lincoln said and blushed, "we're...we're together."

"Congratulations, Linc!" Luan said.

"Awww, Lincy's got a girlfriend now," Leni said, and turned, her face serious. "She's lucky."

"I want to be in charge of planning the wedding," Lola said. "Everything will be pink."

"Ew," Lana said, " _I_ wanna plan the wedding. Instead of a dancefloor we can have a _mud_ floor!"

"You would crash and burn as a wedding planner," Lola said. "And while I wouldn't mind seeing you go down in flames, you are _not_ going to ruin our brother's wedding."

Lincoln's face was on fire now. "Alright, you guys are embarrassing me."

"You should get married on Halloween," Lucy put in. "It's the best holiday ever."

"We're not getting married!" Lincoln cried. "We're only eleven!"

Lola snorted. "You aren't going to be eleven forever, Lincoln Loud. One day you'll be a man and you'll have to face the music." Then she started to sing. "Here comes the bride..."

Everyone else picked it up and sang in unison.

"All dressed in white!"

His cheeks burned and he buried his face in his hands. He was smiling, though. Some things never change.

* * *

She waited fifteen minutes, and that's only because Leni and Lola dragged him into Lola's room to talk about wedding plans. Lynn didn't know if they were serious or just messing with him, but given Leni's frequent squees of happiness, she figured it was the former. Leaning against the wall, she held her hands behind her back and practiced what she was going to say, going over it again and again until she was sure she could get through it without stammering and looking stupid.

When Lincoln came out, he turned left, toward his room, either not seeing her or pretending not to see her. She reached out and lightly slapped his arm. "Yo, Linc."

He turned and a nervous shadow crossed his face. "Y-Yeah?"

Lynn suddenly felt very vulnerable, and crossed her arms. "Can we talk for a minute?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I actually kind of wanted to talk to you too."

In his room, she dropped onto the edge of the bed while he shut the door and leaned against it, his hands in his pockets and his head bent. Lynn's stomach rolled and she took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I've been weird the last couple days," she said. "I-I have a lot of emotions and stuff, but Luan told me what you said...about you thinking I don't love you anymore."

Lincoln's head whipped up and his eyes widened, lending him the appearance of a doe in the headlights. "Well, I –"

"It's okay, Linc. I'm sorry." She wetted her dry lips and looked at him. When she spoke next, the dam burst and her emotions flooded out. "I _do_ love you. I had a dream the other night where Mom and Dad never adopted you and I was so sad because you're the best brother in the world and I'm so grateful to have you. Part of me is afraid that things will be different between us now and another part hurts because you're not really my brother and it makes me kind of sad that I'm not related to you because you're an amazing person and it feels like I lost something important." Tears stood in her eyes now but she continued. "I'm sorry I made you feel like that. I love you, Linc, you mean the world to me and you're the best brother I could ever hope for and I'm so glad Mom and Dad adopted you and I want to be there for you because you're always there for me."

Lincoln blinked back tears of his own and took a deep breath. He pushed away from the door and sat next to her. "It's been really hard," he said.

Lynn nodded. "I know."

He sighed. Lynn was not good at bearing her emotions, much like Ronnie Anne. The fact that she was honest with him made him feel that he owed it to her to be honest too. "Sometimes I just feel like I don't belong here, like this isn't my house and I'm just a guest."

"No," she said, "that's not true."

"I know it's not, at least I think I know. I'm going to take it one step at a time from now on and not worry, but that's just how I feel. Like suddenly there's this...knowledge that I'm different and..." he trailed off. "I don't want to get into it. It's depressing."

When Lynn took his hand in hers, he turned to face her. "We love you, Lincoln. _I_ love you. You're everything I could ever want in a brother and..." she glanced away. "I've always kind of looked up to you. Even though you're younger. You're so many great things."

Lincoln wiped his eyes and nodded. Lynn opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say, so she hugged him instead, and for a long time they held each other and cried. "We'll get through this together," she vowed tearfully, "you and me...brother and sister..."

After the tears stopped, after what had come had dried, they still held each other, drawing strength from one another. She was right, she realized as she pulled away and cupped her brother's cheek in her hand, things _were_ different between them now: They were closer, and Lynn's love for him had only grown. From the warm look in his eye, she suspected he felt the same.

"Wanna play a video game?" she asked.

Lincoln blinked. " _You_ wanna play a video game?"

"Sure," she said, and grinned. "I'm tired of kicking your ass on the football field; I wanna kick it on the TV screen."

Lincoln snickered. "Lynn...you're in _my_ house now. You're going down."

And though she would never admit it, she did...repeatedly. He was okay at football, but he was a _beast_ at video games. She had her baby brother back, though, and it didn't matter...just so long as he didn't brag _too_ much.

* * *

 **This is it, guys. The next chapter is titled "Bombshell" and, well...for good reason. What do** _ **you**_ **think the shocking secret is?**


	9. Bombshell

**Fan fiction, by its very nature, is automatically AU because all of it – all of it – exists outside the official cannon. Lincoln's not adopted in the show. Alright. He is in this story, just like his sisters didn't put him in the hospital after** _ **Brawl in the Family**_ **but did in That Engineer's story. Fan fiction is like all fiction in that it is inspired by one question: What if? Stephen King asked himself 'What if a guy went crazy in a haunted hotel?' and wrote** _ **The Shining**_ **; J.K. Rowling asked herself 'What if a kid found out he was a wizard and went to wizard school?' and wrote** _ **Harry Potter**_ **; I asked myself 'What if Lincoln Loud was adopted?' and wrote** _ **Thicker Than Blood**_ **. Saying that this story is entirely sunk by Lincoln not being adopted in the show is like saying Harry Potter is sunk by wizards not existing in real life. C'mon, guys, chill, it's fiction. And we're about to learn that second, shocking secret...if you can handle something happening in a story that doesn't happen in the show, that is ;)**

* * *

It was inevitable that Lincoln would start to ask questions. Rita and Lynn both anticipated it; they didn't expect it to happen quite so soon, though. On Thursday afternoon, Lincoln found them in the kitchen and came to them with a nervous look in his eyes. "Can...can we talk?" he asked. Rita and Lynn exchanged a glance. It was clear from his demeanor and the tone of his voice what he wanted to talk about.

"Sure, son," Lynn said, gesturing toward the kitchen table, "let's sit."

They sat at the table, Lincoln at the head and Rita and Lynn at either one of his hands. None of them looked comfortable. Lincoln felt somehow wrong for wanting to know more about his real family (Mom and Dad were the ones who were there for him, after all, not his real mother and father), but Lori and Luna encouraged him. "They won't mind," Luna said, "you wanna know more. So what? Anyone would." His curiosity still struck him as a betrayal, and the last thing he wanted to do was betray his Mom and Dad; they had loved and raised him since he was a baby, and even though they weren't _really_ his parents, they _really_ were.

Lynn and Rita waited for Lincoln to speak first. "I love you guys," he said, "I just want to know more about...me. Where I came from."

"Of course, honey," Rita said, and patted his hand. "We'll tell you anything you want to know." Lynn glanced at her. They had decided to hold off on telling Lincoln something until he was back on his feet. The fact that he came to talk to them of his own accord told Lynn that he was, which didn't entirely surprise him. Over the past couple days he had been watching his son, and each day his anxiety and discomfort seemed to melt just a little more. Lori said he still came into the hall fully dressed in the morning, which is something he had never done before, but his interactions with his sisters was smoother, easier than it had been just a few days ago. Lincoln was sensitive, but he was snapping back quickly, which pleased Lynn.

Lincoln looked down at the table, then up at his mother. "Where am I from?"

"You were born in Detroit," Rita said measuredly, "and lived in Dearborn."

"What was my mother's name?"

"Sarah," Rita said distastefully. "Sarah Michaels."

"What about my...my f-father?"

"His name was James," Lynn said. "And he was a real pi –" he was going to say _piece of shit scumbag_ , but stopped himself. "He wasn't a very good person. He was in prison and probably still is."

Lincoln's brow pinched. His father was in prison? "W-What did he do?"

Rita and Lynn looked at each other, neither sure how to tell him or even if they should. "He shot someone," Lynn lied. One day, when Lincoln was older, they would tell him that his father raped and nearly killed two women, but for now, he didn't need that weighing on his conscious.

"Did they die?"

"No," Rita said quickly. "They're okay, but it was a policeman, so they put him away for a long time."

Lincoln suddenly felt sick to his stomach, and wasn't sure he wanted to continue. "What was wrong with...with her?" He couldn't bring himself to call that woman his mother.

"She had mental problems," Rita said. "And she..." Rita took a deep breath. She didn't particularly want to tell him, but he needed to know. "She was abusive."

"To me?" Lincoln asked.

"Yes," Rita said. "You had to go to the hospital a couple times. She almost broke your arm once."

Lincoln's heart hurt.

"Then, the last time, CPS got involved and they took you away." She held his hand and he looked up at her, his eyes were dark and troubled. "And we came, and found you, and fell in love with you. We adopted you, brought you home, and the rest is history." She offered him a smile, and he flashed one back.

Shortly Lynn Jr. came in and dragged Lincoln outside to play football (okay, she didn't drag him, he went happily and willingly). When they were gone, Rita sighed. "Tomorrow," she said. "We'll tell him tomorrow."

Lynn nodded. "It's for the best," he said heavily. He'd have to start searching for her, a task that thoroughly intimidated him.

Thursday night found Lincoln struggling to sleep. He tossed, turned, and flopped back and forth, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, the main one being: What if? What if they never took him away from his real mother? What would his life be like? Would he be happy? Would he be the same person he was now, or would he be some grotesque bizarro world Lincoln? What if Mom and Dad never adopted him? What if he stayed wherever he was when they found him? What if they picked some other kid and left him there?

He tried to imagine these alternate universes, but they disturbed him so much that tears sprang to his eyes. He didn't _want_ to be anyone else. He was happy the way he was...even if he was kind of a geek and his arms looked like limp noodles.

Other thoughts began to come...the same thoughts that plagued him in the days immediately following the revelation: What if Mom and Dad got tired of him? What if his sisters started to hate him? What if he did something and they all disowned him? Panic began to rise in his chest, but he countered it by taking a series of deep breaths and remembering what Lori said to him at the mall on Saturday: _If they tried to give you up – which they never would – they'd have ten pissed off girls to deal with._ They'd _be the ones gotten rid of._ He grinned at that.

 _They love me and they would never give me up._

He repeated this again and again, like a magic mantra, and before long, he drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he woke Friday morning, he was at peace...at least as much at peace as a boy in his situation could be. He pulled on a pair of jeans and went into the hall, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd forgotten his shirt.

Luna, Lynn, and Luan were in line for the bathroom. When he walked up behind Luan, she turned. "Hey, Linc, wanna hear a joke?"

"Something tells me I'm going to whether I want to or not," he grinned.

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. "You're lucky I need a sounding board or I'd tell it to someone else." She smiled. "What's brown and sticky?"

Lincoln's brows furrowed. "I don't know, and I don't know if I want to."

"A stick!"

She slapped her knee and laughed. Luna and Lynn both groaned. "It was even worse the third time," Luna said.

After he showered and dressed, he went into the dining room, where Lana was glaring at Lola. "Take a picture, sweetie, it lasts longer," Lola said without looking up from her cereal.

"You are the most inconsiderate roommate ever," Lana said and shook her head. "I wanna bunk with Linc. I bet he's a _much_ better roommate."

Lincoln started to say there was no room, but, you know...there's always room for family. Even if they _are_ dirty and have a bunch of weird pets. "No one's bunking with Lincoln," Lori said. "You guys are sisters and need to work through your differences. That's what family does."

"Oh, great," Lola said, "Miss High and Mighty's on her soapbox again."

Lori's face flushed with anger and she took a deep breath.

"Lola," Lincoln said, "Lori's trying her best to be a better big sister. Dogging her every step of the way isn't very helpful."

Lola rolled her eyes and Lori smiled beatifically. "Thank you, Lincoln." She glanced at Lola. " _He_ gets it. I'm not trying to be mean, I just want everyone to get along better."

"Fine, I'm sorry," Lola said and went back to her cereal.

After breakfast, Lincoln grabbed his backpack and went outside. Ronnie Anne was sitting on the bottom step, and when she heard him, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up. "Hey, lame-o."

"Hey," he said. "Sorry I kept you waiting."

"Eh," she said and jumped up, "I've only been here a couple minutes." He descended the stairs, and her hand crept into his; her touch never failed to make his heart pitter-patter, and he smiled.

"How are doing?" she asked, as she did every morning.

"Okay," he said. They were on the sidewalk now, heading south.

"Did you ask your parents about...your birth family and all that?" she asked. A gust of wind caught an errant strand of her hair and tossed it across her face. She squinted and tucked it behind her ear, and she was so beautiful that Lincoln couldn't help but draw her into a kiss. She stiffened in surprise, then melted against him, her hands fluttering to his hips as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. Their tongues moved slowly and passionately together, their breaths mingling. Lincoln felt himself beginning to stir, and pulled away in embarrassment. _Please go down, please go down!_

She smiled up at him, the morning sun touching her face and making it glow. "Are you avoiding my question?" she asked.

Lincoln shook his head. "No. You're just looked beautiful I had to kiss you."

Her cheeks turned red and she giggled. "You're a sap."

"I know," he said, and hugged her.

"So," she asked when they got back underway, "did you ask them?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I asked them."

"And?"

Lincoln sighed. "My real mother's crazy and my real father's in prison for shooting a cop."

"Holy shit," Ronnie Anne breathed, then grinned. "You know, I always thought you had a little bad boy in you."

A ripple of fear went through him. "I'm not like that," he said quickly. He stole a glance at Ronnie Anne, suddenly afraid she looked down on him. She watched him with loving eyes.

"I didn't mean anything by it," she said seriously. "I know you aren't like that." She squeezed his hand and rested her head against his arm. "Which is why I like you." Lincoln knew he wasn't like that, but it worried him, because maybe he had that sort of thing deep in his DNA, the capacity to do bad things like shoot cops or abuse little babies. He thought of Lilly, his youngest sister, and shivered. He could _never_ hurt her.

Shoving those thoughts aside, he kissed the top of Ronnie Anne's head. "I like you too," he said simply.

* * *

Lynn and Rita waited until all of the kids were home from school before calling a family meeting. They were originally going to talk to Lincoln privately, but they decided that it would be best to tell everyone.

All eleven of their kids gathered on the couch, Lori holding Lilly and Lincoln in the middle, flanked on one side by Lynn and on the other by Luna. Sitting on the coffee table just as he had a week ago, Lynn Sr. scanned the faces of his children. Lori, Leni, Luna, and Luan knew, just as they had known about Lincoln, and he saw questioning looks in their eyes. On Tuesday, while he was fixing dinner, Lori came in to get something from the fridge and asked if they were going to tell him. "Soon," he said. Presently, she cocked her head, and he nodded. Next to him, Rita took his hand and squeezed it.

"Alright," Lynn said, "we have something to say...um...mainly in regards to Lincoln, but it does affect all of you in a way."

Lincoln's brow furrowed, and Lynn thought he saw the first stirrings of panic, but then it was gone.

"You know you have ten sisters who love you very much, right?" Lynn asked his son.

Lincoln glanced around at his siblings, a small smile creeping across his face. Luna ruffled his hair and Lynn punched him in the arm. "Yeah," he said.

"They are your sisters no matter what, Lincoln, and you're their brother."

"I know," he smiled.

Lynn sighed and looked at Rita, then back to Lincoln. The best way to do it, he figured, was to just do it, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "You have another sister," he said, "a twin sister..."

* * *

 ***Gasp***


	10. Something Missing

**Contains lyrics from** _ **Let It Go**_ **by** **Idina Menzel (2013)**

* * *

 _Mistakes happen. Lynn Loud understood that. The mix-up at the adoption agency, however, was too much. Standing at the window of the nursery, his fists clenched and hot tears blurred his vision, he tried to look at the little girl in the crib next to Lincoln's, but couldn't bring himself to do it._

 _He and Rita came that day to sign the final paperwork for the boy_ and _the girl, but somewhere along the line, someone screwed up and the papers weren't filed properly. In the meantime, another family started the adoption process on her, and there was nothing they could do. It was all done fair and square, after all._

 _Lynn sighed sadly and bowed his head. He was loathe to break the twins up; on a deep, cellular level, they needed each other. Part of him wanted to see if the other family would take Lincoln as well, but he and Rita already loved the boy like he was their own, and they could no sooner give him up than they could give up Lori or Luan. Letting the girl go was bad enough...but him too? It was unthinkable._

 _He rubbed his brow and fought back the tears threatening to overwhelm him. He didn't want to let her go. He wanted both of them._

 _Lost in his emotions, he didn't know he had company until a man spoke beside him. "Which one's yours?" he asked. Lynn glanced up at him. He was about Lynn's age, with wavy blonde hair and glasses. He was wearing a checkered shirt tucked into khaki pants and white tennis shoes._

" _The boy in the third row," Lynn said, "with the white hair."_

" _Oh," the man said and turned. "You're the one adopting him?"_

 _Lynn's brow furrowed quizzically. "Yes."_

" _My wife and I are adopting the girl," he said. "We were going to adopt both, but someone flubbed the paperwork." He chuckled nervously._

 _Lynn looked away from the man and focused on Lincoln. So_ he _was the one who would have her and hold her and hopefully raise her into a beautiful young woman. Jealousy clutched Lynn's heart and he closed his eyes. In the end, as long as she went to a good, loving home, it didn't matter. He told himself that, and he knew it was right, but it hurt...it hurt more than anything else ever had, except for Rita's miscarriage before Lori. This was probably worse even than that, because he never actually laid eyes on that child...it was never more than a hope. This one...he had looked into her eyes, held her in his arms, stroked her cheek._

" _What are you going to name her?" Lynn asked when he trusted himself to speak._

 _"We aren't sure yet," the man said, crossing his arms. "I know it's rather late in the process to still be undecided, but my wife and I can't pick. We compiled separate lists of names we liked, but none of them match." He chuckled. "What are you naming your son?"_

" _Lincoln," Lynn said, "and we were going to name her Linka."_

" _Linka?" the man asked, tasting the word the way a wine connoisseur would an unfamiliar vintage. "That's pretty."_

 _Lynn nodded and forced himself to look at her – his Linka – because he would probably never see her again, and he never wanted to forget her face or her eyes, even if he lived to be old, stooped, and white-haired._

" _Is there any significance to it?" the man asked curiously._

 _Lynn shook his head. "No. Me and my wife just liked it."_

" _It is a very nice name."_

 _Before he and Rita left that day, they stopped by the nursery one final time and tearfully watched the twins, neither speaking. At the foot of Lincoln's crib was a blue placard with his name, date of 'discharge' and the names of his parents – Rita and Lynn Loud. Lynn's eyes flickered to Linka's crib, and he noticed a similar card, this one pink. It hadn't been there earlier. He pressed his forehead to the glass and squinted._

 _NAME: LINKA MARGRET RANDALL_

 _DATE OF DISCHARGE: 07/26/06_

 _NAME OF PARENTS: TODD AND KAREN RANDALL_

 _Good luck, little girl,_ Lynn thought and touched the glass.

* * *

Do you ever feel like something's missing...something indefinable but vital, something that nags on the edge of your consciousness like dull discomfort but never really develops into full-blown pain? Linka Randall felt that way sometimes. It would hit her at random moments during the day, and for a few minutes she would feel as though a she was missing something. She would wiggle her fingers and toes (nope, all present and accounted for), look down the front of her shirt, and, if she was alone, touch herself through her skirt. Invariably, she would pronounce herself whole and healthy, but the feeling of missing something would usually persist for a while longer until it slipped away and she forgot about it.

She had always been in touch with her emotions and with the world around her; her mother was a child psychologist, after all, and while most kids were still learning how to potty train and tie their shoes, Linka was learning about compassion, empathy, and the importance of understanding and positively channeling your feelings. She often wondered if being so in tune with yourself doesn't unlock hidden parts of the brain...psychic parts that have been buried deeply by millions of years of evolution. Many times she was able to judge the mood of one or both of her parents simply by walking through the door. If they were angry with one another (which happened very infrequently), the atmosphere would feel dark and heavy, like a storm was gathering. If they were particularly pleased, the atmosphere would be light and warm like an airy spring afternoon. Her occasional feelings of _missing_ something must be rooted in reality, she figured, but just exactly _what_ she was missing remained a mystery.

A boyfriend? No, she didn't think it was that. She was certainly interested in boys, but she was interested in visiting France. Maybe one day she would, and maybe she wouldn't. That's to say it wasn't something that weighed heavily upon her. Companionship in general? Well...yeah. As an only child she _was_ lonely, though she had her cat Hawthorne, and he made for good company. It _would_ be nice to have someone to talk to and do things with, someone with whom she was more deeply connected than a friend. Linka had friends, but none that she could think of as _close_.

That was it, she would decide; she missed not having a brother or a sister. She was never entirely satisfied with that answer, though, because she felt that there was more to it than simply wanting something that wasn't.

On a Friday morning in early October, Linka woke with the persistent feeling that she lacked something important. Lying under the covers, the fog of sleep rapidly dissipating from her head, she scrunched her lips to the side and exhaled through her nose. It was quite irritating, really. She could identify the root cause of every tear she had ever shed and every giggle she had ever uttered, but not this. She considered, not for the first time, bringing the matter up with her mother, but decided against it. For some reason, she didn't feel comfortable speaking to her about it, which added further to the mystery. She talked to her mother about _everything_ , even her budding interest in sex. That was _not_ an easy conversation to have, but it was one that Linka realized needed to be had. Why couldn't she articulate this of all things to her mother? She didn't know, but it puzzled her.

Sighing, she swung her legs out from under the covers and got up, the silky fabric of her nightdress rubbing against her tender nipples. She hissed through clenched teeth and silently cursed the effects puberty was having on her. The hair that was beginning to grow between her legs was unsightly, but manageable, the soreness in her breasts was _not_.

At her nightstand, she selected a green skirt and a button-up shirt with a golden crest over the heart. In the bathroom, she laid them carefully on the marble countertop and took off her dress, which she then neatly folded and sat in the dirty clothes hamper. She turned the water on and made sure that it was to her liking before stepping in.

Some days it amazed her how _big_ her bathroom was. Of course it wasn't hers _privately_ (extended family and overnight guests used it – overnight visitors were fairly rare), but 99 percent of the time she was the only one using it. The tub was big enough to fit a good ten people if you packed them tightly, and there was room for at least another fifteen to wait their turn. She liked her house, but it baffled her why the builders made the bathroom and its attendant fixtures so _large_. Did the previous owners throw parties in here? She smiled at the image of a bunch of affluent types crowding together in the shower with martinis in hand. _I say, where is Jeeves with the hors d'oeuvres?_

Linka poured a measure of body wash onto her pink loofa and lathered her arms and chest while thinking of Jeeves. Not many people know that Jeeves was a character in a series of novels and short stories by the British writer P.D. Wodehouse. Linka did, and took pride in that knowledge not because it made her better than anyone...but because the Jeeves stories were funny: He was the perennial straight man to his young master's hijinks. Bertie Wooster was the kind of man whose family had money, so all he had to worry about was having fun. He was overall a good man...never hesitating to help a friend in need, even though he was often left with egg on his face. Jeeves, in turn, was always there for him, giving him expert advice and getting him out of even the tightest jams. It was sweet.

When Linka was done, she cut the spray and toweled off, the air creeping in through the edge of the curtain cold against her flushed flesh. Her nipples became erect, and she drew a sharp intake of breath. Ouch. She balled her fist and held it up as if to punch Mother Nature in the face. When will these damn things get it over with and _grow?_ Not soon enough, she figured as she stepped out and crossed to the sink, the stone tiles cold against her feet. At the countertop, she looked herself over in the mirror, her eyes instantly going to her snowy white hair. She would never say it out loud, because her mother believed in speaking only positively, and so did she, but she was embarrassed by her hair, especially by the little horselick that just wouldn't stay down no matter what she did to it. She wasn't too crazy about her freckles either, or the way her front teeth were naturally chipped...or at least that's what she thought of them as.

She'd asked her parents where the white hair came from, as her father had blonde hair and her mother had red hair (blonde and red don't make white). Apparently it was a trait that skipped generations. Her great-great grandfather had naturally white hair. Poor man. She could only imagine the teasing he must have endured. It was bad enough for her in the year 2017...what it must have been like for a man in the 1930s! Instead of taunting him, the other kids most likely beat him with sticks and rocks for being different...a simpler time, you know.

Her eyes crept down to her blossoming breasts; while she was well aware that they were a 'work in progress' (as he mother would say), she wasn't happy with the way they looked. She tentatively prodded one with her finger and frowned. One day soon, they would come in and the soreness would stop and she would most likely be content with them, but for right now they were small, ugly pinkish nubs that hurt.

Nothing could be done, however. She got dressed and gave her reflection a quick once over, nodding when she found herself decent. In her room, pulled on a pair of woolen knee-high socks and her shoes, then sat in front of the mirror and brushed her long, colorless hair until it was silky; she was not what one might call a 'girly-girl' but she liked her hair to be soft, and had discovered that fifty-three strokes achieved maximum softness. She counted each one, her lips moving silently in the mirror over her vanity. Missing something...she was missing something.

 _No, you aren't,_ she told herself firmly. _You have everything you need._

Except a sibling. That would be nice.

Well...yes, that _would_ be nice.

Very nice, actually.

 _Fifty, fifty-one...and fifty-two._

She sat her brush down and picked an orange hair clip out of a small wicker basket. She tilted her head and snapped it on. _Not bad,_ she thought cautiously. She really shouldn't be so hard on herself. She was certain at least several boys liked her, and while that should in no way determine how a girl felt about and viewed herself, it was nice to know. She actually kind of liked one of them back. A sly grin crept across her face, and she glanced away from the mirror. Kyle Mountcastle. Dreamy blue eyes, delicate cheekbones, kissable lips...

Blushing, Linka got up and took a deep breath. No more thoughts like that. Where was her blazer? She put her hands on her hips and looked around, spotting it on the coatrack by the door, where it was every morning, along with all her red ties. She could understand why private schools require boys to wear ties, but why girls? Ties weren't exactly something that average woman wore, even if she was a high powered executive. She should really ask someone, because it didn't make sense to her. She took one and put it on regardless, absently looping and knotting it. She slipped into her blazer and grabbed her backpack from its spot by her bed. She started out the door, then did a 180 and went back to her bed with a flustered sigh. Kneeling, she took her violin case out from under her bed; every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, she had practice after school. It wasn't her favorite thing in the world, but she was good, and, though it could be a pain sometimes, it was very cathartic; it's hard to be in a bad mood when you're focusing on making beautiful music and not breaking a string.

In the kitchen, her father was sitting at the table with the morning paper open before him, a steaming mug of coffee in easy reach. He was a slight man with soft features, blue eyes, and wavy blonde hair that was _juuust_ beginning to gray. He wore tiny glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Her mother was at the stove, her back to Linka. She was thin with curly red hair that fell past her shoulders.

Linka dropped her backpack on the floor next to her chair and leaned her violin case against the table. Her father looked up and smiled warmly. "Morning, honey," he said.

"Morning, Daddy," she said, and pecked his stubbly cheek. "Bleh. You need a shave."

"I was thinking I'd grow a beard," he said, glancing back at the paper. "We can become pirates and live a life of adventure."

Mom chuckled. "Don't forget poor hygiene."

"That too," Dad said.

"Adventure sounds fun," Linka said as she settled into her chair. "I still want to see Paris."

"I don't think many pirates were brave enough to venture _that_ far north," Dad said. "The French navy was once a force to be reckoned with."

Linka shrugged. "So was the Spanish Armada, but look what happened to them."

Dad laughed. "You have a point there, sweetie."

Mom scraped an egg onto a plate and added a piece of wheat toast smeared with avocado. She sat it before Linka and kissed her forehead. "How did you sleep, dear?"

"Good," Linka said.

"No more strange dreams?"

"Mom!" Linka blushed.

Dad pretended not to hear, bless him.

"I'm just making sure," Mom said with a smile. "It's perfectly natural."

Linka bowed her head. She loved her mother to death...even if she did routinely embarrass her. You'd expect more from a child psychologist. Parents, though, are parents, no matter what they do or how many degrees they hold. "You better hurry up and drink your coffee," Mom said to Dad, "you're going to be late."

"Eh," Dad said, scanning the paper. "One of the benefits of having one's own practice is setting one's own hours."

"And annoying one's customers until one's customers find a new surgeon."

Dad shrugged. "You have a point." He closed the paper and looked at Linka. "Sometimes I feel as though you and your mother enjoy battering me with good points."

Linka shrugged. "Maybe try coming up with some good points of your own?"

Dad laughed. "I try my best." He rolled the paper into a tube and swatted Linka gently on the top of her head. She laughed and pushed it away. "Not the hair! I just did it!"

"I'm sorry, honey," he said as he got up. He lifted the mug to his lips and took a quick drink before setting it back down. "I'll be more careful in the future." As he passed behind her, he flicked her horselick.

"Daddy!"

"The future is now," he said and hurried out of the kitchen.

Shaking her head, Linka picked up her fork and cleaved off a piece of egg. Mom poured herself a cup of coffee, sat across from her, and watched her with loving green eyes. "Has anyone asked you to the dance yet?"

For a minute Linka drew a blank. Dance? Then it came to her. Ridgewood Academy's annual Autumn Ball (because what else would a fancy school call a dance?) was on October 21 – nearly three weeks away. "No," she said. A part of her wanted someone to ask her (Kyle Mountcastle preferably), but another part didn't. Though it might not be readily evident (okay, maybe it kind of was), she was shy, and the thought of dancing with a boy was, while appealing, scary...very, very scary. Not entirely in a bad way, though.

"It's a matter of time," Mom said, then took a sip from her mug. "Boys often wait until the last minute."

"I guess," Linka said, forking a piece of egg and raising it to her lips.

"If you like we can go dress shopping this weekend," Mom said.

"I'm not even sure I want to go," Linka said.

Mom frowned. "Why not?"

Linka shrugged.

"Linka?" Mom asked in what Linka thought of as her 'tell me' tone.

Linka sighed then looked into her mother's eyes. Full discloser coming your way, mother. "I am intimidated."

"Why?"

"Because I am an eleven-year-old girl who is becoming interested in boys, and feel as though I am out of my league."

For a moment Mom simply looked at her, then began to laugh, which mildly perturbed Linka. "I'm sorry, honey," she said, waving a hand. "You're a beautiful, intelligent, and considerate young lady – the thought of you being out of your league just strikes me as funny."

Linka smiled. "Thank you. I mean I feel out of league when it comes to the concept of dating as a whole."

"You _should_ go," Mom said. "I can see you now, in a pink dress with a corsage and a little curl in your hair...oh, you'd be the most beautiful girl there."

Linka blushed. "I doubt that."

"I don't," Mom said.

Linka took a bite of her toast, making sure not to get any of the spread on her face or shirt. "Just think it over," Mom said, "if you don't want to go, you don't have to, but I think you'd have a good time."

"I'll give it some thought," Linka said; the more she turned the idea over in her head, the more she kind of liked it. Sure, it was scary, but, then again, weren't most things in life? If you stuck to what wasn't scary, you'd be in the shallow end of the pool eating chicken nuggets for the rest of your life.

Dad came back into the kitchen and bumped into Linka's chair, which _almost_ made her drop her toast in her lap. She spun in her seat, assuming that he did it on purpose, but smiled when she saw him with his head thrown back and fingers fumbling at his tie. "Sorry, honey," he said absently, then fixed Mom with something approaching a pout. "A little help?"

Mom laughed and got up. "Leave to you to wear a tie every day for fifteen years and never learn how to actually _tie_ it."

"Even _I_ can tie my own tie," Linka said.

"This conversation doesn't extend to little girls who can't drive." He winked and Linka stuck her tongue out.

Mom looped his tie and knotted it. "I don't understand why you don't wear clip-ons."

Dad snorted and pecked her lips. "Would _you_ go to a doctor who wore a clip-on tie?"

She laughed and kissed him back. "No, but I also wouldn't go to one who has his wife do it for him."

"Touche," he said, and kissed her one more time. "Have a lovely day, if you need me I'll be injecting collagen into lips that don't need it and lifting faces that do." He rubbed Linka's head.

"Daddy!"

"Oh," he smiled sheepishly, "right. The hair." He leaned forward and kissed her on the top of her head.

While Mom saw him out the door, Linka hurriedly finished her breakfast and washed it down with a glass of orange juice. "Are you almost ready?" Mom called.

"Almost!"

She took her plate and glass to the sink, rinsed them, then grabbed her backpack and violin case. Mom was waiting by the door, her arms crossed over her white pea coat. "It's cold today," she said.

"I doubt it's _that_ cold, Mom," Linka said. Her mother had lived her whole life in Michigan, but for some strange reason had never been able to tolerate the cold. Outside, a chilly wind blew through the trees and sent yellow and red leaves fluttering to the ground. It wasn't bad, though; not as bad as it would be in two months.

Mom came outside, closed the door, and locked it. "Sometimes I think you were born in an igloo."

"It's not _that_ bad, Mom."

"I think it is."

Together they crossed the front lawn to the driveway where Mom's 40th birthday present, a silver 2017 GMC Crossover, waited silently. Linka slid into the passenger seat while Mom got behind the wheel and started the engine, her trembling hand going to the dash panel and worrying the heater. "It was nice just a week ago," she said. "Just one week."

"It's nice now too."

Mom chuckled as she backed into the street. "I'm going to start calling you Elsa."

"I don't mind that," Linka said, "I like that movie." She watched the house as they pulled out of the driveway: A two-story Tudor with a steeply pitched roof, a brick façade below, decorative half-timbering above, and tall, narrow casement windows. Closely maintained ivy grew along one wall. Linka felt warm and fuzzy every time she saw her house from afar; for some reason it had always reminded her of a safe, cozy Hobbit hole.

Mom turned down the radio, which was kept either on the classical station or NPR, and started to sing:

" _The snow glows white on the mountain tonight  
_

 _Not a footprint to be seen.  
_

 _A kingdom of isolation,  
_

 _and it looks like I'm the Queen."_

Linka blushed and looked out the window. "Mom..."

" _The wind is howling like this swirling storm inside  
_

 _Couldn't keep it in;  
_

 _Heaven knows I've tried."_

Linka watched the fashionable homes and shops of Grosse Pointe flash by, a tiny grin on her face. He mother could be such a dork sometimes.

"Come on, Linka," she said, "you love this song."

When she was a little girl, Linka was obsessed with _Frozen_. She had the movie, the CD, _Frozen_ sheets and pillow cases and comforters; she even went as Elsa for Halloween for two years in a row. She and her mother would sing _Let it Go_ at the top of their lungs at random times, sometimes even in public. That was before the onset of puberty ushered in angsty self-consciousness, though.

Just ignore her and she'll stop.

" _Don't let them in,  
_

 _don't let them see  
_

 _Be the good girl you always have to be  
_

 _Conceal, don't feel."_

Linka _did_ love this song, but she did _not_ love her voice.

Her mother knew this. "It's just us here, sweetie," she grinned. "I know you want too."

"That's peer pressure, mother," Linka said.

"No it's not," Mom said, pulling to a stop at a red light. "I'm your mother, not your peer. It's parental pressure."

"That's even worse!"

Mom looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. Linka sighed and threw her head back. "Fine," she said and took a deep breath. She began to sing in a high, clear voice:

" _Don't let them know  
_

 _Well now they know."_

Mom smiled, and together they sang the chorus:

 _Let it go, let it go  
_

 _Can't hold it back anymore_

 _Let it go, let it go  
_

 _Turn away and slam the door  
_

 _I don't care  
_

 _what they're going to say  
_

 _Let the storm rage on."_

Mom stopped, and Linka sang the final verse on her own:

" _The cold never bothered me anyway."_

Mom laughed and Linka's blush deepened. "That's my girl! You have such a pretty voice. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

Linka shrugged. She didn't like her voice, but other people seemed to, and she _did_ kind of like singing. When she was little, she and her parents would go Christmas caroling with some of her parents' friends, and people always made a big deal about how "angelic" her voice was, which made her a little uncomfortable.

Presently they were pulling along the wrought iron fence surrounding Ridgewood Academy, a tall, spacious gothic style building with wide windows, stone columns, and spires rising against the morning sky. Girls in skirts and boys in suits crowded the wide gardens before the school, some standing in big groups and others sitting under shady trees by themselves. Ridgewood was one of the more exclusive schools in the Detroit area, second only to Milton, where the rich kids went. Her parents considered sending her there, but she didn't want to go; from what she had heard, the kids there were super snobby.

They came to a stop in front of the main gate. "Have a good day, honey," Mom said, leaning over and kissing Linka's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," Linka said. Grabbing her violin case, she got out and crossed the street, scanning the crowds and finding Kristy Evans standing by the fountain with Kayla Wilson. Kristy saw her, smiled, and waved. A tall girl with black hair and bright blue eyes, Kristy was the closest thing Linka had to a best friend: Her father was a judge who had work done by Dad. The two girls had been friends since the fourth grade. Kayla, short and rotund with red hair and green eyes, had recently moved to Grosse Pointe from Boulder; her father was the CEO of a company that sold real estate or bought real estate or something like that...Linka didn't really care what her friends' parents did unlike _some_ kids at Ridgewood.

Linka walked over, threading her way through a group of boys teasing each other. "Hey, Link," Kristy said.

"Hey," Linka said, then nodded at Kayla. They didn't know each other very well, so Linka felt kind of awkward around her. She seemed nice, though.

"You'll _never_ guess what just happened," Kristy said excitedly and took Linka's hands.

"Uh...your trust fund doubled in value?"

Kristy giggled. "No, silly, Jake Rollins asked me to the dance."

Jake Rollins was one of Kyle Mountcastle's friends. Kristy had been _totally_ crushing on him for months now. He was _kind_ of cute, but he had creepy eyes, and when he smiled, it looked...off, like he was forcing it.

"That's great," Linka said, genuinely happy for her friend. She squeezed her hands as Kristy bounced excitedly up and down.

"I know, right? I'm over the moon." She leaned in and smiled. "I hear Kyle's going to ask _you_ out."

Linka blushed and glanced away to hide the smile forming at the corners of her mouth. "I doubt that," she said.

"Speaking of," Kayla said.

Linka's heart seized. She looked up, and there he was, strolling casually along, one thumb hooked under the strap of his backpack. His hair was pale red and his eyes were muddled blue; he was beautiful.

He nodded as he passed, then looked directly at her. "Hey, Linka."

Linka's face burned furiously and suddenly, she forgot how to speak. "H-Hi. Kyle," she said.

"See you in history," he said, and when he turned away, Linka's knees nearly gave out. Kristy grabbed her hands again and made an enthusiastic _squee_. "I _told_ you! He's _totally_ going to ask you to the dance."

Linka did not hear this; she was lost in a warm, pinkish haze of happiness from which she would not come down for a long, long time.


	11. High Hopes

For a long time Lincoln sat slumped on the couch, his head bowed and his mind processing the new information. Luna rubbed his back slowly and lazily, Lynn patted his leg with great tenderness. "Pretty cool, huh, bro?" Luna asked.

Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, but didn't know what to say. He had just come to terms with having ten sisters that he wasn't really related to, and now he finds out he has one – a twin at that – he _is_ related to. His head spun, and a mixture of emotions swirled through his stomach. He tried to isolate one, and when he did, a smile spread across his face. Wow. Another sister? A _real_ sister? Not that the girls around him weren't his sisters – they were and he loved them dearly – but...wow, a sister who was actually related to him.

When he looked up at his parents, Dad flashed a tight smile. "What happened to her?" Lincoln asked. "W-Why didn't you adopt her too?" He felt a rush of anger and shoved it back down. Where was his sister? Why wasn't she here with him?

Mom sighed. "We tried. There was a mix-up with the paperwork and someone else wound up adopting her out from under us." She saw the hurt in her son's eyes, and leaned forward, laying her hand on his knee. "There was nothing we could do."

Luna's arm snaked around him and she held him close. "Where is she?" he asked.

"We don't know," Dad said. "We do know her name, though...they took that from us too." Dad covered his mouth and looked away for a moment. "It's Linka. Her last name is Randall."

Linka. Did she look like him? If so, how much? Identical? Twins often looked alike, but sometimes they didn't. He started to ask his parents, then realized they wouldn't know; they had only seen her as a baby, and all babies look pretty much the same, right? Big forehead, little eyes, drooling mouths. "Can we find her? We can find her, right?"

Lynn nodded. "We can try. Me and your mother have a plan."

An ache Lincoln had never felt before settled into his stomach, and he suddenly felt on edge. "How long will it take?"

"We don't know," Dad said. "Hopefully not long."

"That's pretty cool you got a twin like me," Lana said. "I bet yours is better, though." She shot a dirty look at Lola and crossed her arms. Lola favored her with a distasteful glance and turned away with a breathy _humph_.

"Well," Luan said, "this was a _twinteresting_ development."

Everyone groaned except Lincoln, who was still coming to grips with the fact that _oh my god, I have a twin sister!_

"I wonder if she likes football," Lynn wondered aloud. "I'd whomp her, guaranteed!"

"Nah, I bet she likes music," Luna said. "We can shred."

"Just as long as she's nothing like Lana," Lola said, folding her arms over her chest, "I'll be happy."

"It'll be like having _two_ Lincys," Leni said, balling her fists in excitement. "Boy Lincy and Girl Lincy." Her eyes suddenly became troubled and she touched her chin with her forefinger. "How will I tell them apart?"

Lisa stoked her chin and flicked her eyes toward a spot in the distance. "I've always wanted to study opposite sex twins. Unfortunately, I've been cursed with Lola and Lana." She shuddered.

"Hey!" the twins said in unison.

Lisa smiled sheepishly. "Thinking out loud again." Then, to herself: "I really have to stop doing that. I have a bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth and sounding stupid...like Leni."

"Now you're doing it on purpose," Lori said.

Lisa grinned. "Who said geniuses don't have time for humor?"

Lori rolled her eyes and glanced at Lincoln, who was still reeling. She leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. "You okay, bro?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's just...wow."

"I know," Lori said and squeezed. She remembered the bitter disappointment she felt when Mom and Dad came home with Lincoln and not Linka. And she wasn't the only one. _"Uh, where's my new sister?"_ Luna asked. She had been so busy playing with Lincoln that she totally forgot that she was supposed to have a little sister too. _"Did you forget her?"_

" _No, honey, she's going to be living with someone else,"_ Dad explained, and Luna's face dropped.

" _I don't_ want _her to live with someone else. I want her to live here! I want my Linka! Now!"_

Lori sometimes found herself wondering after Linka the way one does a childhood friend lost to time, though she did not invite these thoughts, as they stung; even though Linka had never actually been her sister, in a way she was. Where was she? What was she like? Was she happy? She hoped she was, and that the family who adopted her loved her as much as she, her parents, and her sisters loved Lincoln.

"Eleven sisters and counting, Linc," Lynn said and slapped Lincoln's back. "Maybe Mom and Dad'll whip you up a brother at some point."

Mom and Dad looked at each other. "It's...a possibility," Mom allowed, "though we're not planning on any more kids."

"That's literally what you said after Lola and Lana," Lori said.

"And Lisa," Lucy said.

Mom held her hand up. "Point taken." She looked at Lincoln. "Your father and I are going to see if we can't find anything out about Linka. We can't promise anything, even if we do find her, so don't get your hopes up too much."

Lincoln nodded. "I won't."

* * *

Lincoln lied; he got his hopes up. Sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and a comic forgotten in his lap, he stared into space and imagined meeting his sister, his mind spinning a thousand different scenarios and giving her a thousand different faces. Sometimes she looked just like him, other times she looked nothing like him. How strange would it be to look at your sibling and see an exact replica of your face? He'd always wondered how Lana and Lola were able to forge such separate and unique identities when physically they were so much alike. Did they do it intentionally? It must be hard seeing yourself entirely as your own person when there's someone just across the room who's basically you. Who could blame you and your twin if you pulled in opposite directions?

Linka. That was her name. Linka. Did she like comic books? And video games? Oh, it would be so awesome if she did; none of his other sisters liked any of the things he did, and having one who did would rock. He doubted she did, though; not many girls seem to enjoy comic books and video games. Ronnie Anne did...games, not comics, which was cool and all...but while he really, really, _really_ liked Ronnie Anne, a girlfriend isn't the same as a sister. With a sister you share a special bond, an unbreakable bond, a bond that runs as deep as the deepest ocean trench and deeper still.

The kind of bond he shared with his sisters now.

Guilt tinged his excitement, and he drew a heavy sigh. His sisters had always been there for him...had always protected and watched out for him...had always loved him and listened to him when he needed an ear. He felt kind of like he was turning his back on them in favor of Linka. He loved them all and didn't want them to feel like he did when he first found out he was adopted. He would _never_ stop loving them, no matter what, and he wanted to make sure they knew that.

Dad called up the stairs that dinner was ready, and Lincoln went down to the dining room with a weight on his shoulders. He sat between Luan and Lisa, stealing glances at each to see if they looked upset. They did not. He was probably overthinking it and stressing over nothing (something he was very good at, it seemed), but his sisters meant the world to him, and when something means the world to you, you're going to stress about it.

As they ate, Mom and Dad went around the table asking everyone how their day was; the responses ranged from "totes good" to "pretty wicked." When it was Lincoln's turn, he shrugged. Other than finding out he had a twin sister, it was your average day.

"I've noticed you're walking to school with Ronnie Anne now," Mom said, and Lincoln blushed. The _last_ thing he wanted to do was talk about his relationship with Ronnie Anne to his mother.

Keeping his cool, he nodded. "Yeah." He said it as nonchalantly as he could.

"Are you two an item?" Mom pressed.

He scraped his fork across his plate.

"They absolutely are," Luan said, and Lincoln's face burned. She leaned forward and said, in a stage whisper, "they hold hands."

If Lincoln wasn't such a good, kind, caring, loving brother, he would have yanked her ponytail. As it stood, however, he _was_ a good, kind, caring, loving brother, so instead he shot her daggers.

"Really?" Mom asked, her brows lifting and a smile touching her lips. "Lincoln, that's wonderful. She's a very cute girl."

"Lincoln knows how to pull 'em in," Luna said appreciatively.

"You should go to him for relationship advice," Lynn said, and nudged her older sister in the ribs.

"Because you're so lucky in love, huh?" Luna asked, crossing her arms and glancing archly at Lynn. "Didn't you puke on the last boy you liked?"

Lynn's face went pale as her older sisters laughed; Lola made a disgusted face and Lucy glanced up from her plate.

"I remember that," Lori said. "Tommy something. In third grade."

"I don't want to talk about that," Lynn said quickly and looked down at her plate as if the food thereon was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

Instead of pouncing on her, everyone just let it...drop. Just two weeks ago Lynn would have been torn to pieces (in a playful way, of course), but now she was spared and allowed to live another day. Lori trying to be a better sister was really starting to pay off.

"I'm happy for you," Mom said, and for a moment Lincoln didn't know what she was talking about. Oh, Ronnie Anne, right.

"She's great," Lincoln said honestly.

"If you and Ronnie Anne get married," Lana said, "and Lori and Bobby get married, won't that be, like, incest?"

"No," Lisa piped up. "And any children produced by such a union would be cousins legally but half-siblings genetically...if Lincoln shared our DNA."

Lori's brow crinkled. "Okay, _that's_ strange."

Lincoln turned to his second-youngest sister. "How is that possible?"

"Well," Lisa said, "if you and Lori were genetic siblings and each of you married your current respective partners – who _are_ genetic siblings – yours and Ronnie Anne's children would share about 25 percent of their DNA with Lori and Bobby's children – roughly the same amount that half-siblings share. That's also the amount of DNA one shares with one's grandparents."

Lori cocked her head and assumed a deeply thoughtful expression.

"Wait," Leni said, "so...Lincy's kids would be Lori's kid's grandparents?"

Lisa pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, I..."

"Well, technically, that's kind of what you said," Luna pointed out.

"That's _not_ what I said."

"If they are considered genetic half-siblings, they can be considered grandparents and grandkids," Luan added.

"No, they can't," Lisa said. "The genetic distinction is...nevermind."

"I guess it's a good thing we're not actually related," Lincoln said, "because I'm not giving up Ronnie Anne."

Lori grinned. "And _I'm_ not giving up Bobby."

"Good. You don't have to."

"Good. Neither do you."

Lincoln stuck his tongue out, and Lori did the same.

"It would make no legal, moral, or genetic difference even if you _were_ related," Lisa said. "There would be no inbreeding involved. If you engaged in sexual congress..."

"Alright," Dad said, "I think that's enough. This was very enlightening, Lisa, and we all appreciate learning such an interesting fact, but our dinner isn't getting any warmer."

Lincoln shook his head and went back to his food. Sometimes he envied how smart Lisa was, but at others he pitied her: If he had all that knowledge weighing down his head, his neck would probably snap. How she was walking around without some kind of brace or prop he would never know.

After dinner, Lincoln helped Luna with the dishes; he washed, she dried and put them away. "So," she asked, wiping a plate with a green dish cloth, "you and Ronnie are getting serious, huh?"

"Kind of," Lincoln said, handing her a glass.

She took it and rubbed it dry. "You kiss her yet?" she asked with a sly grin.

Lincoln's face blushed and he smiled against his will.

"You have, haven't you?"

Lincoln nodded.

Luna wrapped her arms around him and drew him roughly to her chest, squeezing the air out of him. "My little Lincoln's growing up," she said. "Pretty soon it's gonna be heavy pet..." she trailed off. "Never mind. You gonna make me an aunt soon?"

"Probably not," he said.

Luna released him and crossed her arms. "Dude, really?" she asked teasingly. "I want a little nephew or something."

"Well, right now, Lori's your best bet." He grabbed a plate from the sink.

Luna sighed. "Guess I'm gonna have to wait on it." She took the plate and dried it. "But you better have a baby Lincoln Jr. in my arms by the time you're twenty or there's gonna be righteous hell to pay, bro."

Lincoln looked at her, and they both burst out laughing. "You're a dork," he said affectionately.

"Yeah, I kind of am," she said, and slapped his arm. "But seriously, use protection."

Lincoln held up his hand and turned away, his face turning scarlet again. "Eleven, Luna, we're eleven. We aren't going to be doing _that_ any time soon."

Luna shrugged. "You never know, bro. Nice guys are a real turn-on and all."

Lincoln opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't form words. What if she was right and Ronnie Anne really _did_ want to...do that...soon? Cold terror flooded him. Not that he didn't want to, but...wow, that's kind of intimidating...getting naked in front of a girl and showing her your privates. The thought made him blush from head to toe, and he dropped the plate he was holding.

"You alright?" Luna asked.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Lincoln said. He picked the plate back up and rinsed it off. He remembered something, and turned to his older sister. "Can you have everyone meet me in Lori's room? I want to have a sibling meeting."

"Alright," Luna said. "You good here?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I'll finish up."

She ruffled his hair and left. After the plate, Lincoln drained the sink and wiped the soap suds away, then dried the plate off and put it away. Upstairs, he went to Lori's room, and found his sisters all waiting, a group sitting on Lori's bed and a group sitting on Leni's bed. They had learned long ago that sitting on one bed was a bad idea.

Taking a deep breath, Lincoln went in and shut the door behind him. "What's up, Linc?" Lori asked, a touch of concern in her eyes.

"I just wanted to say something," Lincoln started, then paused to find the words. "I-I love you guys and you'll always be my sisters. I don't want you to feel like...like this means I don't love you as much or anything."

"Linc," Lori said, "we don't feel that way at all."

"Yeah, Linc," Luan said, "we're really happy for you...and we wanna meet her too."

Lori got up and came to him. "She's our sister too, you know." She put her arms around him and hugged him close.

The others got up and joined the hug until Lincoln was lost in a massive crowd of girls. "She's my sister more than Lola is," Lana said, "because there's a chance I'll actually like her." She winked at Lola, who rolled her eyes but smiled and put her arm around her twin.

Closing his eyes, Lincoln hugged and allowed himself to be hugged, the warm sensation of love replacing the apprehension. Why would he ever doubt his sisters? They were great...they were better than great, they were the great _est_. He tried not to use the word 'adopted' in his thoughts, but right now he did: He was _glad_ they adopted him. He was glad that of all the families who could have come along and taken him, it was the Louds. He couldn't imagine being anywhere else, and he didn't want to. This is where he belonged, this is where he was happy, and this is where he would choose to be if he wasn't already.

He sighed contentedly. "I love you guys," he said.

"We love you too, Lincoln Loud," Lola said. "Your twin's a lucky girl...meanwhile _I'm_ stuck with Lana."

"But you love me," Lana said.

Lola sighed. "You're my sister, so I have no choice."

"That's right," Lori said, putting a hand each on Lola and Lana's head. "You have no choice but to love your sisters...and your brother."

Lola pulled away. "Uh, the tiara."

* * *

You would expect Lynn and Rita Loud's search for Linka and her family to consist of phone calls to state offices, poring over adoption records, and coming up against bureaucratic red tape...and you would be wrong.

They used Google.

Sitting up in bed that Friday night, his wife's laptop balanced on his knees, Lynn typed TODD AND KAREN RANDALL MICHIGAN into the search bar and clicked the magnifying glass icon...within seconds, the screen was filled with hits, the first being a MyLife account for a Todd Randall in Ann Arbor. This Todd Randall, however, was sixty-eight, much, much older than the Todd Randall he met in 2006.

The second link was for a plastic surgeon in Detroit, the text below calling Dr. Randall 'the most sought-after cosmetic surgeon in the Midwest.' Lynn skipped that for now and continued scrolling down. His plan was to find something with both 'Todd' and 'Karen' in it, and near the bottom, he did...a website associated with the American Society of Plastic Surgeons. Rita, sitting next to him and leaning over, read the text. "24th Annual ASPS Convention, July 28-August 2, 2017, Boston, Massachusetts."

The site was filled with pictures of people standing at podiums, information on speakers and events, cosmetology news, and articles written by some of the nation's leading plastic surgeons. There were a dozen pages of this, and each one that didn't yield results stoked Lynn's growing frustration. His son wanted to meet his sister...and truth be told, Lynn wanted to meet her too.

On the last page were photographs taken at some kind of gala on the last night of the convention. Men in expensive suits and women in fancy dresses. Looked like a real black-tie affair.

When he saw the very last picture, he froze. It was of a man and a woman standing in front of a table covered with a silken blue cloth, their arms around each other's waists. The man wore a black suit over a white shirt. The woman wore a flowing black dress; she was slender with curly red hair and emerald, feline eyes. The man was tall with glasses and wavy blonde hair.

Lynn recognized him instantly, and his heart leapt. "That's him," he said, poking the screen with his index finger.

Rita leaned in closer, squinting her eyes. She'd left her reading glasses on the dresser but didn't want to abandon the search long enough to get up and get them. She read the text beneath. "Dr. Todd Randall, ASPS member and chair 2012-2016, with wife Karen. Are you sure that's him?"

"Positive."

He backed out of the page and went to Dr. Randall's website: The banner depicted a modern glass building surrounded by a manicured topiary garden. "It looks like he does well for himself," Rita commented.

"I'll say," Lynn replied, clicking on the CONTACT tab. An email address and phone number popped up. He started to click on the email link, but stopped. Something of this magnitude wasn't the kind of thing you did through an email or even a phone call...that would be like asking your wife of twenty years for a divorce via text. It should really be done face-to-face. He glanced at Rita. She was thinking the same thing. "We should meet him."

Lynn nodded. "I'm off Monday, I can go then."

"I work," she said.

"I know," he replied. "And when is your next weekday off?"

Rita didn't _have_ weekdays off, unless she took them off, which she didn't like to do, especially after leaving early the day Lincoln found out he was adopted. Dr. Jacobs was understanding, but Rita did not want to push her luck. "I'll get a sitter for Lilly and drive down Monday while the kids are at school." He looked back at the screen. "I'll even schedule a free consultation."

Rita chuckled and touched his face. "You _could_ use some work."

Lynn glanced at her and lifted a brow.

"But I love you anyway." She leaned in and kissed him.

Later, as they cuddled in the darkness after making love, Rita asked, "Should we tell Lincoln we found them?"

Lynn sighed and thought for a long time. "Probably not yet. There's a chance the Randalls won't want him to meet her."

"Did we do the right thing by telling him?" she asked.

Lynn nodded. "Yes. It might hurt, but it's better to have it all out in the open. I'm actually kind of glad we don't have any more secrets. Secrets aren't something a family should have."

He was right. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the steady pounding of his heart. It was a soothing sound that never failed to calm her even from her worst moods. She, too, was glad that there were no more secrets, and she decided in this moment that going forward, there never would be again.


	12. Alone

_**Alone**_ **by Edgar Allen Poe (1829)**

* * *

Linka Randall lifted the violin to her left shoulder, rested her chin against it, and slowly drew the bow across the strings, her fingertips delicately yet decidedly moving along the fingerboard. The sound produced was high and airy, filling the vaulted drawing room and reverberating like a forlorn sigh. Mrs. Wadsworth, her tutor, a tall, severe woman with hard eyes and ash colored hair, nodded curtly, and Linka began to play _La Follia,_ her favorite Vivaldi piece, her eyes closing and her arm moving the bow with gentle assurance, the music flowing into and through her, filling her heart and her mind. "Too fast," Mrs. Wadsworth said, and Linka slowed her movements, only hearing the old woman's critique subconsciously. One of Linka's faults was turning herself entirely over to the music and going too quickly.

"Too slow now."

Linka's focus faltered, and she hit a sour note, but recovered, falling into a steady, flourishing rhythm. She could feel Mrs. Wadsworth's eyes on her, but ignored them, allowing herself to drift on tides of sound and emotion.

"Like that," Mrs. Wadsworth said.

Linka maintained her pace, then went faster as the piece demanded, her fingers flying across the board and the bow lightly scraping the strings. As she played, she entered a state of meditation that she had only ever known while holding a violin: It was a contradictory mix of hyper-focus and mental wandering. She knew every note, but in the absent way one knows every breath. In her mind, she saw Kyle Mountcastle, and a small smile touched her lips. She saw green meadows dotted with flowers, warm sunlight, saw herself lying in soft, fluffy grass...and slowly she began to float, weightless as a leaf on the autumn wind. She was at peace...in rapture...nothing existing, nothing intruding, no teachers or tests or dull black-tie parties for her parents to drag her to, no gossiping snob-girls snickering behind their hands, no feeling that something was missing, no loneliness weighing heavy on her chest...just her drifting...drifting...

She automatically stopped when she reached the end, her spirit dropping back into her body and her mind suddenly clearing. She lowered the violin and looked hopefully at Mrs. Wadsworth, who watched her with a haughty expression, her eyes like flecks of ice. "That was very good, Miss Randall," she said.

"Thank you," Linka said. "I've been practicing more at home." Her eyes darted from the old woman to the gleaming Stradivarius in her lap. It was true, she had been practicing more at home, though not on a strict schedule, only when she had nothing else to do...which was quite often.

"It shows," Mrs. Wadsworth said and stood, her plain, Victorian style dress rustling. "I will see you back here Monday."

Linka nodded. "Yes, ma'am.

While Mrs. Wadsworth went off wherever Mrs. Wadsworths go when they aren't tutoring the children of upper middle class families, Linka put the violin lovingly in its case, moving with exaggerated care. It was her great-grandfathers': He started his career playing fiddle in a second rate vaudeville act in the 1920s and ended it playing the Detroit Symphony Orchestra in the 1950s. Her father passed it down to her on her eleventh birthday, telling her to cherish it always and to pass it down to her own son or daughter one day. Linka didn't know if she would have a son or a daughter one day, but she cherished the Stradivarius completely. It was a family heirloom and it meant so much to her father...the fact that he entrusted it to _her_ was an honor, and she would protect it with her life.

She snapped the case closed, pulled on her blazer, and picked the case up, crossing the drawing room and showing herself out through the foyer. The sky was a soft shade of orange tinged with cold purple. A chilly wind swept through the evening, needling her. _I guess I'm not Elsa after all,_ she thought as she hurried down the walk. Her mother was waiting at the curb, the engine of the GMC idling. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, the heat enveloping her in a loving embrace.

"Hey, honey," Mom said.

"Hi, Mom," Linka chirruped and buckled her seatbelt, the violin case cradled in her lap.

"How was practice?" Mom asked as she spun the wheel and navigated down the street, passing stately old homes fronted by wide lawns. Mrs. Wadsworth was old money, her grandfather serving as Vice President or something of Standard Oil, and she lived in Bloomfield Hills, where most old money in the Detroit area lurked. The atmosphere was strange here...one of nostalgia and genteel decay. Linka didn't like it.

They came to a rolling stop at an intersection, and Linka's hands flew protectively over the case. "Good," she said. "Mrs. Wadsworth complimented me."

Mom favored her with an appreciative glance. "Really? That's great. She doesn't offer compliments easily, you know."

"I know," Linka with a satisfied smile. She had been seeing the old woman three days a week for nearly two years, and in the first five minutes of their association, Linka had her pegged as a terminal curmudgeon; nothing she had done or said over the past twenty-three months had changed that impression.

"I'm proud of you," Mom said.

By the time they got home, dusk had lengthened into night, and the electric streetlamps lining the sidewalk had come on. When Linka didn't see any lights in the windows, she frowned. "Daddy's not home?"

"He's running late tonight," Mom said. "A frequent flier requires a touch-up, apparently."

What Mom and Dad meant when they used the term 'frequent flier" was someone who routinely got work done, often times unnecessarily; many of his patients were the mothers and grandmothers of Bloomfield Hills, the type of wealthy women so horrified by the prospect of aging that they underwent multiple surgeries and wound up, ironically, looking worse than they would have had they simply let nature take its course. At least one was an elderly celebrity who flew out from California once every three months like clockwork. Before she was born, Dad had a practice in Beverly Hills with another doctor, and they routinely saw the Hollywood elite.

Why people were so afraid of getting old was beyond Linka. Then again, with her white hair, she had been halfway there her entire life.

Mom parked the car and looked at her. "Which means a girls' night. We can order a pizza and watch a movie if you like."

Linka liked girls' nights with her mother. "That sounds nice," she smiled.

"I have a little bit of paperwork to do, but that shouldn't take more than half an hour." Mom killed the engine and took the keys out of the ignition.

"Okay," Linka said, and got out. Inside, she took her violin to her room and pushed it under her bed, where it would be safe. Next, she took her blazer off, hung it up, and kicked out of her shoes as she loosened her tie. She went to the bathroom on socked feet, relieved herself, and considered a hot bath while she waited for her mother, but decided against it; she liked to take her time in the bath, and didn't want it to cut into her and her mother's time together.

Back in her room, she switched on the bedside lamp and dropped onto her bed. She should really change into more comfortable clothes, but she suddenly didn't have the energy. She laid back against her pillow and took a deep breath: Nothing felt quite as good as relaxing after a long day. She reached out and grabbed one of the books on her nightstand, a slender hardback with gold leaf writing on the cover. _American Poetry: 1825-1844._ She would read while she waited. She opened it and went instantly to her favorite poem in the whole book, Poe's "Alone":

 _From childhood's hour I have not been_

 _As others were—I have not seen_

 _As others saw—I could not bring_

 _My passions from a common spring—_

 _From the same source I have not taken_

 _My sorrow—I could not awaken_

 _My heart to joy at the same tone—_

 _And all I lov'd—I lov'd alone—_

There was a dark beauty in this particular piece that stirred something deep inside of Linka. She knew what it felt like to be alone. Her parents were always there for her, but still there existed a sad kernel of loneliness deep inside of her, from which, she figured, her feelings of missing something must stem. Sometimes the house felt too big, too echoy, and everyone else in the world too far away.

She snapped the book closed and laid it on her chest. Speaking of the being _too_ something, presently it was too quiet, the only sound the faint _tap-tap-tap_ of computer keys from her mother's office across the house – the fact that she could hear that stood as stark testimony to the preternatural silence. She sat up, laid the book on her nightstand, and turned on the radio, the soft sounds of violins filling the room. Since she was already halfway there, she decided to get up and change. Closing her door to a crack, she peeled off her socks, unbuttoned her shirt, and pulled her skirt down, leaving both garments on the floor. Next came her underwear. Naked, she selected a pink pair of longue pants and a simple white T-shirt from the dresser and pulled them on. There. That felt better. She gathered her clothes and took them to the dirty clothes hamper in the bathroom, where she folded them before putting them in. She went into the living room and dropped onto the sofa, snatching a pillow and hugging it to her chest. What movie did she want to watch? She honestly didn't know. What had even come out recently? The one about the clown, but she didn't like horror movies...wasn't there also a new Spiderman movie? Spiderman was okay. Maybe they could watch Frozen. She hadn't seen that in a while. Over a year, come to think of it.

She waited for what seemed like forever. The constant _tap-tap-tap_ stopped, which meant Mom must be done, but she didn't come down the hall. Finally, Linka got up and went down the hall, the sound of her mother's voice drifting through her open office door. "No, David, the Benson boy is _not_ a lost cause. _No_ child is a lost cause. He just needs more time."

Linka's spirits fell. She reached the doorway and rested one hand against the frame. Mom was sitting and her computer, hunched over with the office phone pressed against her ear. Linka knew her posture well: She was caught up and wouldn't be done for a long time. _There goes girls' night,_ she thought disappointedly. She sighed sadly and went back into the living room. She could curl up on the couch and watch something by herself, but it wouldn't be the same.

In her room, she sat heavily on the bed and drew her legs under herself. _C'est la vie,_ she thought. Her parents worked hard to provide...she realized that and she appreciated it...that didn't make it hurt any less when they were busy and she was alone, though.

Oh well. She started to reach for her book, but stopped when Hawthorne waddled into the room, a massive charcoal colored tabby with flat green eyes. A smile crossed her face. " _There_ you are," she said, "did you come to keep me company?"

The cat meowed as if to say that he did and came over. She reached down and picked him up with a grunt. "Ugh. You get heavier and heavier every day. What are they feeding you?"

Hawthorne meowed in indignation as she sat him on her lap. He was warm and furry and started to purr. "It's true, you're almost as big as William Howard Taft!" Hawthorne's eyes narrowed to slits. "I love you, though," she giggled and rubbed his bulging side; he forgave her by way of flopping his head against her leg and stretching his legs. Hawthorne had been a member of the family almost as long as she had: She was three (she thought) when she found him under the Christmas tree, a scrawny, wiry little kitten with big green eyes and a red bow around his neck. That made him eight, which is forty-eight in human years. He wasn't old, but he was well on his way through middle age.

For nearly a decade, he had been her companion...sometimes her only companion, and he always seemed to know when she needed him most, appearing at her feet or by her side within moments of loneliness setting in. She tickled him, and he threw his face against her hand, brushing his teeth against her skin in warning. Had it been anyone else, he would have bitten them, but she was special...she got three warning shots before he decided she needed to learn a lesson.

"You're pretty feisty for an old man," she giggled, and tickled him again. He brushed his teeth against her again. _You're pushing it, Linka,_ she could imagine him saying. "Alright," she pouted, and scratched behind his ear, "I won't tickle you anymore. Promise." Hawthorne purred his appreciation, and Linka leaned forward and planted a kiss on his furry forehead. "Sometimes I wish you were human," she said, "then we could talk and do things together, like play tag. Playing tag is fun."

Hawthorne cocked his head as if to ask _What's tag?_

She smiled at his cute expression and stroked his chin. "It's a game where a bunch of people run from someone who has been designated 'it'. Whoever they touch then becomes the new 'it.' It's _awesome_ , but I don't have anyone to play with. None of the girls at school are into tag anymore, just make-up and stuff."

Hawthorne flopped his head against her leg as if the idea of playing tag made him tired. Linka opened her mouth to tease him, but stopped when her mother called her name. "Yeah, Mom?"

Mom didn't reply. She had a bad habit of that...calling out but not calling _back_. "Alright, boy," Linka said, shifting, "you have to get up. Mother requires my presence." Hawthorne seemed to roll his eyes. "I know, I'm a dork, don't rub it in." She gently slid him off her lap and got up. In the living room, she glanced around, but didn't see her mother. She went down the hall, and found her still in her office, still hunched over the computer and still on the phone.

"You called me?" Linka asked.

Mom turned and put her hand over the mouthpiece. "I ordered a pizza, it should be here soon. My purse is on the table."

"Okay."

"I'll be done as soon as I can, sweetie," she said with a contrite expression. "Don't wait for me to eat."

"Alright."

"I love you."

Linka smiled. "I love you too."

Mom blew a kiss; Linka caught it and blew one back.

In the living room, Hawthorne was lying on the couch. Linka sat next to him and dug her fingers into his side.

He bit her and jumped up.

"Hey!" she called after him, rubbing her hand, "that was the first in a new sequence!" He stopped and looked over his shoulder. _No it wasn't,_ his eyes said, _you stepped over the line and you paid. How does it feel?_

She stuck her tongue out and he trotted away, his tail swishing in what Linka could only assume was a middle finger-like gesture. Little cretin. She looked at her hand: Two red puncture wounds in the fleshy web between her thumb and forefinger. They weren't very deep; she suspected he pulled his punch at the last second. She took that as a sign of love.

The pizza arrived fifteen minutes later. Linka took a twenty from her mother's purse, handed it to the delivery man, and took the pizza into the kitchen, setting it on the table and grabbing a plate; she didn't realize she was hungry until the hot, garlicy aroma hit her nose, and her stomach rumbled. She opened the box. Ooooo, pepperoni. Usually her parents ordered fancy pants pizza with kale and crud on it...not that she didn't like it. You could put just about anything on a pizza and it would taste good. Except for raw sewage. That probably wouldn't taste very good.

Speaking of fancy pizza, there was a place she saw on TV that sold a pizza that was, like, 2,000 dollars and had all kinds of strange stuff on it, including shaved gold. Bleh. Who eats gold? It was uncouth, but she couldn't help wondering what one's poop would look like after eating gold. Would it glitter? Could you buy things with it?

She was reminded of the story of King Midas, a figure in Greek mythology; after an encounter with Dionysus, the god of wine, theater, and fertility, he was able to turn everything he touched to gold...including his food, which didn't work out so well.

What did _his_ poop look like?

 _Stop thinking about poop._

She took two pieces of pizza, slapped them onto the plate, and went into the living room, sitting on the couch. "Hawthorne!" she called softly so her mother wouldn't hear her, "food..."

The cat poked his head out from the hall and looked at her. She smiled, picked a piece of pepperoni off one of her pizza slices, and held it up. Hawthorne's eyes widened and his tongue darted out. He came tentatively forward, crouching as he moved as though he were stalking live prey and not a cooked slice of pork. When he reached the couch, he sat and looked at her.

"I shouldn't give this to you after the way you bit me earlier," she said, "but I suppose it _was_ my fault." She waved the pepperoni back and forth, and Hawthorne licked his lips. "And you _are_ always there for me." She let it drop onto the floor, and he scarfed it up.

She picked up one of the slices and took a bite. Ummmmm. Pizza: Manna from on high, the food of the gods, delicious.

She was just starting on her second slice when her father came through the front door. "Hi, Daddy!" she said happily.

"Hi, honey," he said, taking his coat off and hanging it up. He came down the foyer steps into the living room. "Where's your mother?"

"Working," Linka said.

"Ah," he said, and sat next to her. He nodded to the plate. "What's that?"

"What's it look like?" she asked playfully as she popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth.

"It looks like my dinner," he said, and reached for it.

Linka slapped his hand and giggled. "Get your own. It's in the kitchen."

He glanced over his shoulder. "But I'm tired. I don't want to go in there."

Linka sighed exaggeratedly. "Alright." She picked up the pizza, folded it, and held it out to her father's mouth. He moved in for the kill, and she yanked it away with a laugh. "I should have seen that coming," he said and ruffled her hair. He got up and went into the kitchen. "Do you want another one?" he asked as he took a plate out of the cabinet.

"No, thank you," she said.

Dad came back into the living room and sat next to her again. "How was your day?" he asked, and took a bite.

"Good," she said. "Mrs. Wadsworth complimented my playing."

"Did she?" Dad asked. "Did you check to see if she was running a fever?"

"No," Linka laughed. "She's coming to appreciate my form."

"Or she's finally starting to go senile."

Linka smacked his leg and he laughed. "Your right hook is certainly improving. Perhaps you should take up boxing next."

"Maybe," she said. Then: "Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to watch Frozen with me?"

Dad sat his plate in his lap and looked at her, a smile touching his lips. "I'd like nothing more."

A half an hour later, Linka was snuggled on the couch with her head on her father's chest when her mother came in and sat next to her, her hand fluttering to her leg. Linka could not be happier, and she carried that happiness with her when she drifted off to sleep, at peace between the two people she loved most.


	13. Meeting the Doctor

**BoukenDutch: You know, this isn't the first story I've had this problem with. I think the site** _ **must**_ **be working against me. I dunno why**.

* * *

Monday, October 2nd, 2017 will forever be remembered in the Loud house as the first day Lincoln Loud left his room in only his underwear since finding out he was adopted. He didn't do it on purpose, though; he had trouble falling asleep Sunday night and when he woke Monday morning, he was barely human. In fact, he not only bumped into Luan when getting into line, he also bumped into his bedroom door – twice – before fumbling it open.

When he knocked into Luan, she turned, her eyes immediately flicking down to his undies, a smile creeping across her face. Everyone had noticed Lincoln's newfound fondness for leaving his room fully dressed in the morning, and none of them were happy about it because it suggested that he was uncomfortable, and why should he be uncomfortable in his own home? If you can't be comfortable in your own home, where _can_ you be comfortable? To Luan, this was step one on the road to recovery, and she was happy to see her little brother taking it.

"Hey, Linc," she said, "I heard a great joke in a dream last night...wanna hear it?"

One of his eyes creaked rustily open. "You get your jokes from your dreams?" he mumbled.

"All the time," she confirmed.

"That explains a lot."

Luan's mouth dropped open and Lynn, who was ahead of her in line, laughed. "He's got you there, chuckles."

"Tell it," Lincoln said.

"Alright," Luan said brightly. "How are a dog and a marine biologist alike? One wags a tail, and the other tags a whale!"

"Cute," Lincoln said.

When his turn for the bathroom came, he stripped out of his underwear, turned the water as hot as he could stand, and climbed into the tub. After a few minutes, he started to wake up a little. Why couldn't he sleep last night? He wasn't worried about anything, he wasn't stressing. Sure, he was excited over the possibility of his parents finding Linka (he still couldn't get over the fact that he had a _twin_ ), and dreaded the possibility that they wouldn't be able to, but otherwise, he was fine. His mind cleared but he just couldn't shut down.

He squeezed some body wash into his loofa and lathered up, lifting his penis and hitting his balls too (if Luna was right about Ronnie Anne, he had to be ready at all times –heh, that was funny...he was _not_ ready). Next, he rubbed shampoo into his scalp and stuck his head under the spray. As he rinsed, he wondered for the millionth time where Linka was and what her life was like. Over the weekend, he had spun a thousand fantasies in his mind, turning her into everything from the daughter of a movie star to a crime fighting superhero (okay, that last one was silly, but it made him smile). It was funny: He didn't even know her, and he already loved her the way he loved his other sisters. Hopefully she felt the same way, and didn't think he was a dweeb or a loser or something.

Done, he cut the water, toweled off, and got out, grabbing his underwear from the floor. Huh. He forgot to put on his pants and shirt before coming out into the hall...and you know what? That didn't bother him the way it would have a week ago.

Why would it? This was his home and his family.

In his room, he dressed, pulled on his socks and shoes, and grabbed his coat. Downstairs, Lori, Leni, Luna, and the twins were at the dining room table, a bowl of cereal before each. "Morning, Linc," Lori said.

"Morning," he said.

"'Sup, bro?" Luna asked.

"Not much, you?"

"Same."

Lola and Lana were too busy stuffing their faces to greet him, though Lana tried, bits of cereal spraying the table.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, please," Lori said.

"Sorry," Lana said, turning and spraying Lori with even more cereal. Lori took a deep breath and held her hand up. Lana swallowed and winced. "Sorry."

Lori patted her stiffly on the top of the head. "That's okay," she said evenly, "it was an accident."

In the kitchen, Lynn was leaning against the counter and eating a sports bar while she scrolled through her phone. She looked up when Lincoln entered. "Hey, Linc," she said absently and bent back over her phone.

"Hey," he said and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. Three cereal boxes sat on the counter, one empty, one with barely anything in it, and one half full...of course the half full one was some nasty bran crap.

Man's gotta eat, though; he poured some into his bowl and then splashed some milk on top. In the dining room, he sat next to Lucy, who was scribbling in a notebook.

"What rhymes with 'eldritch horror'?" she asked, her pen pausing.

Uh...what? "Nora?"

Lucy cocked her head and stared down at what she had written. "I think I wrote myself into a corner with that one. I'll just erase it and try something else. Thanks, Linc."

He didn't really do anything, but okay. He was always happy to help his sisters. "You're welcome," he said.

When breakfast was over, he took his bowl to the sink, grabbed his backpack, and went outside; like every day recently, Ronnie Anne was sitting on the top step waiting for him. She turned when he came out. "Nice to see ya, lame-o. You kept me waiting long enough."

"How long have you been here?" he asked as she got to her feet.

Instead of replying, she took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply, her tongue skipping lightly over his. "I meant for that," she said and smiled, "we haven't kissed since Friday. I was starting to go into withdrawals."

"Well, now you can overdose," he said, cupping her cheek and kissing her back, their bodies pressing together. She was warm and soft and her heart pounded pleasantly against his. When the kiss broke, his gazed into her liquid dark eyes and stroked her face, a hazy smile touching his lips. "You're beautiful," he said.

"I know," she said, and slipped her arm around his waist. "How was your weekend?"

They were walking toward the sidewalk now. "Not bad. I, uh...I found out I have a twin sister."

Ronnie Anne came to a halt and turned. "What?"

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah. Apparently she was adopted by a different family." He told her what his parents had told him about the paperwork screw up. She listened, her eyebrow lifting.

When he was finished, she shook her head. "So there are _two_ of you?"

"Well, not exactly..."

She laughed. "Wow. I didn't think the world could handle that much lame-itude." She drew him closer and rested her head on his arm, her tone sobering. "That's really cool. Are you going to meet her?"

"My mom and dad are looking for her," Lincoln said. They were walking again. "I _want_ to meet her. I just worry that..."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Worry. You worry too much."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "But..."

Ronnie Anne looked up at him. "No buts. Stop worrying about everything. You're going to give yourself a heart attack one of these days."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she narrowed her eyes challengingly. "You're the boss," he said and smiled nervously.

"Damn right I am," she said. She laid her head back on his arm. "Damn right."

* * *

Monday morning, after the older kids left for school, Lynn Sr. dropped Lilly off at the sitter's and drove the thirty-five miles into Detroit, following I-75, which terminates at the Detroit River, a narrow channel that separates the city from Windsor, Ontario. Though Lynn had lived his entire life in the metro area, he was not very familiar with downtown Detroit, and relied heavily on Google Maps once he left the interstate: His phone sat in his lap issuing commands in a flat, robotic voice, and he followed them without question.

Todd Randall's office building sat on a wide, fashionable avenue on the edge of Grosse Pointe Farms two blocks south of the Country Club of Detroit: Surrounded by shops and high-end restaurants, it towered over the city, its glass façade glinting in the light of the morning sun. Lynn circled it three times looking for a place to park before finding a spot along the curb just big enough for the van. He killed the engine, turned off his phone, and sat there for a long time, psyching himself up for what was ahead.

He was nervous.

When he was as ready as he could possibly be, he got out and went inside. The lobby was spacious with tile floors, potted plants, and a big reception desk manned by a pretty blonde woman who smiled as Lynn walked up. "I have a ten 'o'clock consultation with Dr. Randall," he said.

"Alright," she replied, poising her fingers over the keyboard of her computer, "name?"

"Lynn Loud."

She typed. "Have you ever been here before?"

"No."

She typed some more, then handed him a clipboard. "Fill this out then bring it back when you're done, okay?"

Lynn nodded, thanked her, and took the clipboard into the waiting room. He sat in a plush chair facing the wall-mounted television set, which was on CNN: Pundits discussed the recent shooting in Las Vegas, questioning the gunman's motives, questioning current US gun laws, questioning everything and talking in circles because they had 24 hours to fill. He scanned the paperwork and arched one brow. If CNN was doing a lot of asking, Dr. Randall's forms did even more: It wanted his entire medical history (including mental), his work history, his family history, and the kitchen sink. Okay, it didn't really ask for the kitchen sink, that was a joke, but that's about the _only_ thing it didn't ask for. Lynn answered each question truthfully and to the best of his ability. When he was done, he took it back to the receptionist and then went back into the waiting room, where he stared unseeing at the TV, his stomach knotted with nerves.

Meeting Linka meant a lot to Lincoln...and it would mean a lot to Lynn and Rita as well...he hoped Dr. Randall was open to the idea.

On TV, a montage of Tom Petty videos was playing. Hm. Lynn liked Tom Petty. When he was growing up, his father played almost nothing but...in the car, at home, always Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. Or Journey, but Lynn didn't like Journey. An anchor appeared. "Legendary rock musician Tom Petty died this morning after an apparent heart attack." Lynn sat forward. Oh. "He was found unresponsive at his home in Malibu and rushed to UCLA Medical Center. He was 66."

Well, _that_ wasn't a good sign.

"Lynn Loud?"

Lynn turned to see a woman in scrubs standing by a door. She smiled. "You can come back now."

Alright. Here goes. Lynn took a deep breath, got up, and followed the woman down a long hall flanked by closed doors. Near a desk, she asked him to step onto a scale, which he did. She took his weight _and_ his height. He was surprised she didn't measure his inseam while she was at it. "This seems a little excessive for plastic surgery, doesn't it?" he asked.

"A little bit," she nodded, "but Dr. Randall likes to be thorough."

"I've noticed."

Done, she led him into a room where he sat. She brought a stool over and took his vital signs...blood pressure, heartrate, the works. "So...what kind of man is Dr. Randall?" he asked as she worked.

"Uh...he's a good man," she said, a bit guardedly. "Very generous and easy to get along with."

"That's good to hear," he said, even though his anxiety was not assuaged.

When she was finished, she got up and wheeled her stool into a corner. "Alright, the doctor will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," Lynn smiled wanly.

Alone, he crossed his arms and tapped his foot against the floor. There was no telling how Dr. Randall would react to seeing him. He could be angry, upset, shocked, or begrudgingly accepting; Lynn was prepared for everything from a warm handshake to being shouted at to leave, though he hoped – mainly for Lincoln's sake – that it was the former rather than the latter.

As he waited, Lynn glanced around the room. How surreal to be here, on the periphery of Linka's life so long after writing her off as gone. He wondered how far from here she was. Did they live in the area? They would have to. If he walked outside (and it were a bright, warm Saturday afternoon), would he stumble across her at a park or shopping with her mother? Waiting at a red-light, would he glimpse her in the next car over? Would he even recognize her?

Those were the things swirling through Lynn's mind when the door opened and Dr. Randall came in, his head bowed over a clipboard. The knot in Lynn's stomach tightened and he suddenly felt feverish.

Eleven years is not a very long time, and Dr. Randall had not changed as far as Lynn could tell. He was a tall, lank man with pale blonde hair, glasses, and a narrow face. He wore khaki pants, a blue button-up shirt accented by a yellow tie, and a white lab coat, a stethoscope hanging over the back of his neck, lending him the appearance of an old fashion country doctor on a house call. "Good morning, Mr..." he scanned the clipboard, tensed, and looked up, his eyes widening.

"Dr. Randall," Lynn said and nodded. "I-I guess you recognize me."

Dr. Randall's lips sputtered as he tried to form words, his shoulders sagging. "Yes, yes I do," he finally managed. He glanced nervously at the clipboard.

"I was hoping we could talk," Lynn said.

"What about?"

Lynn sighed. "Lincoln recently found out that he is adopted. We gave him some time to adjust...then we told him about Linka. He would like to meet her."

Dr. Randall blinked, then turned away, one hand raking through his hair. He dropped the clipboard onto a counter and turned, leaning against the edge, his face wan in the harsh florescent lighting.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Lynn said quickly, "but it would mean the world to him if he could meet his sister...and maybe have some sort of relationship with her."

Arms crossed, Dr. Randall sighed. "Mr. Loud," he said, "Linka..." he trailed off, "she's a sensitive girl...but well-adjusted. She doesn't know that she's adopted and...and my wife and I would like to keep it that way...until she's older at least. Telling her would...it would be like knocking her off her feet. I-I can't do that to my daughter." There was a plaintive quality to his voice that stuck Lynn's heart like a dagger. It was clear that he cared very much for Linka.

"I understand that," Lynn said, "honestly, I do. Me and my wife were going to wait with Lincoln as well. It was an adjustment, but he's doing wonderfully now and he really wants to meet his sister. I think it would be good for both of them."

Dr. Randall took a deep breath. "I can't do it, Mr. Loud. I love my daughter with all my heart and soul, and I cannot yank the carpet out from under her that way. Not now. If we tell her that she's adopted, her entire world will crash down around her. I'm sure she would like having a sibling, but the price is too great."

Lynn sighed, then something occurred to him. _...she would like having a sibling._ "Do you have other children?"

"No," Dr. Randall said. "My wife and I can't have children of our own."

"Doesn't she ever get lonely?"

Dr. Randall opened his mouth, stopped, and considered. "Sometimes, yes," he admitted. "We were going to adopt again, but life got in the way and we never got the chance. We are very attentive parents, however."

"I'm sure you are," Lynn said, "but no matter how attentive you are, you can't be there all the time, and even if you could be, a child needs someone on their own level, someone like a sister or a brother. I'm sure she would take time to get used to the idea, but maybe knowing she has a brother would help her. Twins share a special bond, even if they haven't grown up together. It's a-a connection that no one else can ever have. It's beautiful."

Dr. Randall shook his head slowly. A thousand thoughts raced through his head. In a way, he had lied to Lynn Loud...lied by downplaying Linka's loneliness. He and his wife both knew that from time-to-time she felt alone, which is why they considered adopting her a brother or a sister. As he said, though, she was well-adjusted. Revealing the truth to her would be tantamount to pushing her over.

Lynn bowed his head. "I understand," he said. He started to get up, but stopped, his curiosity getting the better of him. "How _is_ she?"

Dr. Randall smiled fondly. "Very well. She plays the violin and she's very good. She also has the most beautiful singing voice but she's self-conscious." He laughed. "She's very bright and..." here his eyes went misty, "she's the light of our lives." Losing himself to proud father mode, he reached into his back pocket and bought out his wallet, which he opened. He took out a photograph and handed it to Lynn. It depicted Linka sitting on a porch step and smiling, her mother behind her, the woman's arms thrown around the girl's neck. She glowed with happiness, and when Lynn's eyes fell on her, a lump of emotion formed in his throat.

"She looks just like her brother," he said. He took out his own wallet and handed Dr. Randall a picture.

Dr. Randall's breath caught when he saw Lincoln...the boy he once hoped, desperately, to have for a son. "They're identical," he said, and chuckled despite himself. He glanced up at Lynn. "He looks like a fine boy."

Lynn smiled. "He is. He's...he's the lynchpin of our family. He's always there for his sisters when they need him." He laughed. "Sometimes to a fault."

"You have other children?"

Lynn nodded. "Ten girls."

Dr. Randall whistled. "That's quite the houseful."

Lynn nodded. "It gets chaotic sometimes, but they're all good kids. We have five teenagers and we've never once had to deal with drugs or alcohol or anything like that. Moodiness, sometimes, but nothing major."

"Well, that's to be expected. I have two sisters, both older than me, and when they were teenagers, they could be _quite_ moody."

"We've been fortunate so far," Lynn said. "I think Lincoln has a lot to do with it. He's a natural peacemaker. Sometimes I think our house would fall apart if we didn't have him." He sighed sadly and got up. He didn't look forward to letting Lincoln down, and a part of him wished he and Rita never told him about Linka. He would manage, though. He was resilient and his sisters would help him through. "You can keep that," Lynn said, nodding toward the photo in Dr. Randall's hand.

"You can keep mine," Dr. Randall said, looking down at the picture he held. Lincoln's eyes shone with the same light and love that shone in Linka's, and looking into them, he felt the same gnawing loss that he felt eleven years ago when he found out Lincoln was being adopted by someone else.

Lynn was opening the door. "Mr. Loud?"

He turned.

"I...I'll talk it over with my wife," he said. "Linka does get lonely and I think that, even though finding out will be hard for her, having Lincoln might just be worth it."

Lynn smiled. "I think it will be."

"Give me your number, and I'll be in touch."


	14. A Talk With Linka

Todd Randall pulled into his driveway at half past six that Monday afternoon, his head aching and his stomach roiling with nerves. All day, he had been back and forth on the subject of telling Linka about the adoption...provided Karen agreed, which was not a foregone conclusion. Part of him was afraid of disrupting Linka's life and possibly creating a situation where she might question their love for her, but another part agreed with Lynn Loud – she needed a sibling, and long had.

He killed the engine and got out, shutting the door behind him. The light was soft and purple as he crossed to the porch, already loosening his tie. Inside, it was uncomfortably warm; Karen loathed the cold, and they had discussed moving to Florida once Linka was on her own. He personally didn't like the idea – growing up his family vacationed in Florida every summer, and the heat was nearly unbearable. Karen was in the kitchen preparing dinner when he walked in. "Hey, honey," she said.

"Hi," he replied, going to her and kissing the back of her neck. "Where's Linka?"

"She's having dinner with that Kristy Evans girl from school."

"That's nice," he said, then: "She's been lonely."

"I know," Karen sighed. "I feel awful about the other night."

"Don't," he said. He started to tell her about Lynn Loud's visit, but decided to wait. In the living room, he made himself a gin and tonic at the bar and drank it slowly. On TV, Rachel Maddow was talking about the Las Vegas shooting. He dropped into an armchair and crossed his legs. He stared at the TV but nothing that was said registered; his mind was on Linka, his heart throbbing with a mixture of love and anxiety. He did not lie when he told Lynn Loud that she was sensitive, but perhaps he was embellishing. She was a bright girl and resilient. It wouldn't be exactly easy on her, but he had the utmost faith that she would manage and, eventually, flourish...especially with a loving brother at her side.

Karen leaned in from the kitchen. "It's ready."

He drained the rest of his gin, sat the glass on the bar, and went into the kitchen, where he sat at the table. Karen sat across from him, and they ate in relative silence, both missing Linka's presence; everything was much brighter when she was around, and when she wasn't, they were that much darker.

"Any frequent fliers today?" Karen asked.

"No," Todd replied, "although I think I have a few turning into those. Second and third time visits."

Forks scraped against glass. The clock on the wall ticked maddeningly. "How was _your_ day?" he asked, lifting a bite to his mouth.

Karen sighed. "Taxing," she said. "It's days like today that I wish I was a housewife."

"You can always retire," he said around a mouthful of lamb, "we can afford it."

She bobbed her head uncertainly back and forth. "I know...I just don't want to give up my career like that. I'm tempted, though."

Todd nodded. He understood completely. They had been married for nearly twenty years, and she spent over half of that time going to school for child psychology. She was a determined woman, and after putting so much time, effort, and money into her career, she was not keen on the idea of quitting; her perseverance was one of the many things he admired about her. "I'm sure Linka would appreciate it. Or having a sibling."

Karen sighed. "I know, but neither of us have time for another baby." She stared down at her plate and pushed a wad of mashed potatoes back and forth.

They finished their dinner in silence, the atmosphere heavy between them. When they were done, they tag-teamed the dishes, her washing and him drying. He stole a sidelong glance at her, and ascertained that his comment had affected her. He regretted bringing it up because it hurt her, but he was glad that he did because maybe it would sway her when he told her about Lynn's visit.

In the living room, Todd made himself another drink. "Do you want one?" he asked over his shoulder as Karen came over.

"Yes," she said.

He took a second glass from the cabinet, uncapped the decanter, and poured. She was standing next to him now, her shoulder pressed against his in a show of simple affection. He pushed her glass aside, and sat a photograph next to it.

"What's this?" she asked, taking the glass in one hand and the picture in the other. When she saw it, her eyes widened. Her head whipped up and she stared at him as though she had seen a ghost.

Todd took a long drink and sighed. "His father came into the office today," he said heavily. "He accidentally found out about the adoption, and they told him about Linka. He wants to meet her."

Karen's face went white, and her eyes flicked back to the snapshot. For the briefest of moments, she thought it was of Linka, then when she realized who it actually depicted, the air left her lungs in a whoosh. Lincoln Loud...adopted eleven years ago by Lynn and Rita Loud. She remembered their names clearly, because for nearly half an hour she and Todd stood at the glass, saying their final goodbyes to the son they almost had, each one committing every minute detail to memory.

Her husband's words penetrated the fog in her brain, and she shook her head as she grasped for words. "That means we'd have to t-tell her."

Todd nodded, the glass clutched tightly in his hand. Ice cubes clinked. "It does," he confirmed, his eyes unable to meet hers.

"We can't do that," she said. "It would...it would be disastrous to Linka's emotional development."

"Would it?" he asked pointedly. "She's not a Faberge egg, Karen. I think...I think we've treated her like one, but she's a child. A child who's lonely more often than she's not."

Karen shook her head. "We don't treat her that way. She's..."

Todd cut her off. "Sensitive and well-adjusted. I know. I told Lynn Loud the same thing this afternoon. And she is...she's also not weak. She's going to have to find out eventually, and why not now when she has a brother a half an hour away who wants a relationship with her? I think having him will soften the blow. Better to get it out of the way now."

Karen took a deep breath. He was right about Linka being lonely, and more times than she could count over the years, she found herself watching her daughter playing alone and thought _If only we had Lincoln, too._ Linka's mental and emotional wellbeing was what was really important, though, and finding out that she was adopted would throw her life into turmoil. She realized that she (and Todd as well) had the tendency to coddle their daughter, but this wasn't coddling, it was protecting.

Right?

And it was her duty as a mother to protect her daughter.

She wore this on her face as clearly as she wore her lipstick, and someone who had shared his life with her for two decades would be able to see it plainly. "Keeping her in the dark would be keeping her away from her brother, and I think she may very well need a brother more than she needs a charmed life."

Karen lifted the glass to her lips and drained it. "I-I'm afraid of what it will do to her," she admitted.

Todd put his arms around her and drew her close. "I know. But you know just as well as I do – better, even – that she can handle this. It'll be an adjustment but, in time, you'll see that it was the right decision."

For a long time Karen silently processed his words, weighing the pros and cons of telling Linka that she was adopted. She had a moment of self-realization: For years she had been telling herself that telling her would be disastrous to her emotional development – the same thing she just told her husband moments ago – but she did it not out of concern for Linka...she did it out of concern for herself. She loved her daughter, and the thought of somehow losing her filled her with terror...the thought of her suffering even one moment of pain after what she had already endured made her stomach turn.

But wasn't she in pain now? In a way?

Finally, she nodded, hesitantly, against her husband's chest and sighed deeply. "Alright. When should we tell her?"

Todd sighed. "When she gets home."

Karen's stomach turned. She was hoping for a day, or two, or even a week, before having to face her daughter with the news, but that was only delaying the inevitable. "Okay," she said.

* * *

Linka Randall climbed out of Kristy's mother's minivan, grabbed her backpack, and threw it over her shoulder. "Bye, Link!" Kristy said, leaning out and fixing her with half-lidded eyes. "Try not to explode into a million pieces!"

Linka laughed. "I'll try. Bye, Mrs. Evans."

"Bye," Kristy's mother said from behind the wheel. Linka pulled the sliding door closed and started across the driveway. Were her feet touching the ground? She didn't think they were. She fisted her hands in excitement and fought back a loud squeal of delight. In all her years (which admittedly weren't many), she had never been as happy as she was right now...it was a spacy, light-headed sensation that filled her as surely as the music filled her when she played violin, only this was much, much better.

Kyle Mountcastle asked her to the dance...he actually asked _her_ , Linka Margret Randall, the girl with the chipped teeth and white hair! She still couldn't believe it. It happened during recess...recess at Ridgewood Academy being the half hour after lunch where kids were free to roam the grounds, catch up on homework, or sit in the shade of a tree and read. She was standing by the main stairs with Kristy and Kayla, leaning against the wall and lost in recounting her morning when Kristy's eyes darted away and she smiled. "Oh, hi, Kyle."

Linka's heart came to a crashing halt and her eyes went wide.

"Hey," he said nervously. He was right next to her, but she didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes. "Uh...c-can I talk to you, Linka?"

Linka's entire body clamped up. He wants to talk to _me?_ She glanced up at him, and his face was red. It _was_ chilly out, she told herself.

"We'll leave you two alone," Kristy said with a knowing smile. She grabbed Kayla by the arm and pulled her away.

Kyle laughed and looked down at his shoes. He was so cute that Linka could barely suppress a giggle. "I, uh, I was wondering, you know..." he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck. "I told myself I wasn't going to spaz out," he tittered. His eyes locked with hers, and her heart pounded. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the dance." He touched his chest and hurriedly added, "With me."

All Linka could do was smile and nod with a tiny, "Umhm."

He smiled widely. "Really?"

She nodded again. This time she managed to speak. "Yeah." She smiled too.

"Great," he said, "I'll, uh, I'll talk to you later."

As soon as he was gone, Kristy and Kayla materialized from nowhere. "What did he want?" Kristy asked, grabbing Linka's hands. "Did he want what I think he wanted? Tell me he did!"

Linka grinned slyly. "He asked me to the dance."

Kristy screamed and jumped up and down. "That's _so_ great! You guys will look so cute together."

Linka blushed. "Stop."

"You will!"

Presently, Linka opened the front door and let herself into the foyer. Almost immediately, she was struck by the tension in the atmosphere. Her parents must be disagreeing again. Feeling a twinge of apprehension, she closed the door behind her and went into the living room. Her parents were sitting on the couch, and when she came in, they both looked at her and smiled. "Hi, honey," Dad said.

"Hi," Linka said.

"When you have a moment, your father and I would like to speak to you," Mom said.

Linka blinked. Uh...that didn't sound good. _We're getting a divorce,_ she imagined her mother saying, and something like panic gripped her chest. No, that couldn't happen. They argued from time-to-time, but all married couples do that.

Mom sensed her distress, and smiled. "It's nothing bad."

There was a slight infection on her voice, and a flash of something in her eyes, that betrayed her words.

Suddenly very nervous, Linka went into her room, dropped her backpack on the bed, and took off her blazer, which she hung on the coat rack. She loosened her tie and returned to the living room. Her mother patted a spot on the sofa between her and her father. "Come here, honey."

Linka swallowed, fear blossoming in her chest. She walked over, feeling like a woman walking down death row, and sat stiffly in-between her parents. Her mother slipped an arm around her shoulder and her father did likewise.

"I-Is everything okay?" Linka asked.

"Everything is wonderful, dear," Mom said. "We both love you very much."

Linka glanced from her mother to her father, who winked. "It's true."

"I-I love you too. I don't understand..."

Mom took a deep breath and leaned her head against Linka's. "You know how much your father and I love you, don't you?"

"Of course," Linka said. She could feel their love (and see it) every single day. Never once had she doubted her parents' feelings. She was starting to get scared. "Are you getting a divorce?"

"No, honey," Mom said. "I made a vow to put up with your father and I intend to see it through."

"Likewise," Dad said.

Mom stroked Linka's hair and kissed her cheek. "Honey...you're adopted."

Linka turned to her mother, her heart beginning to race. Did she hear her right? "W-What?"

"Eleven years ago," Mom said, "we adopted you...and we're so glad that we did, sweetie. You mean the whole world to us."

Linka could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate. Adopted? As in...Mom and Dad weren't really her parents? She took a deep breath and tried to fight down the panic rising within her.

Dad cupped his hand around the back of her neck. "You are the light of our lives, Linka," he said, "and we are beyond thankful to have you."

Linka blinked. Tears were forming in her eyes. "We were going to wait to tell you," Mom said, "but something came up, and we decided that now would be the best time."

"W-What came up?" she asked, getting control of herself.

Mom smiled at her. "You have a twin brother. And he wants to meet you."

Linka recoiled. "A-A-A brother?"

Mom nodded. "He's adopted too, and he found out by accident. His parents told him about you, and now he...he wants to see you."

Linka reeled. A brother? She had a _brother?_

"His name is Lincoln," Mom said. She pressed a picture into Linka's hands, and she looked at it, starting when she saw the boy. He looked just like her.

Emotion overwhelmed her then, and she started to cry. Mom and Dad both held her until the tears tapered off, which took a long time.

A twin brother.

In a flash, Linka realized that _that_ is what she had been missing her entire life. She was lonely, yes, but she wasn't missing just anyone...she was missing her other half.

And she was suddenly very excited by the prospect of meeting him. "I-I want to see him," she said, and sniffed. "Please?"

"Of course," Mom said, and stroked her hair.

"I'll call his father and we'll set something up," Dad said.

Linka sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Mom rubbed her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Linka took a deep breath and nodded. "In all honesty," she said, "it's a shock and I...I feel a little out of sorts, but...I'm really happy I have a brother." She smiled genuinely. She would never tell her parents, but there were many nights she wished, and hoped, and prayed for a brother or a sister.

"We figured you would be, honey," Mom said, "which is why we told you."

"We didn't want to," Dad said, "because we didn't want you to ever worry that we love you any less than we would if...if you were our biological child." He softly kissed her cheek. "We love you tremendously, Linka, and we are both extremely proud to call you our daughter."

Linka smiled. "I love you too, Daddy." She looked at her mother. "And you too, Mom."

Mom touched her face and smiled. "So...how was your day?"

Linka blushed. "We need to go dress shopping."

Mom's eyes lit up. "You're going to the dance?"

Linka nodded. "With Kyle Mountcastle."

"Honey, that's fantastic!" Mom cried, and hugged her.

Dad sighed and got up. "So it begins," he said. "Boys." He grabbed his glass, took it to the bar, and left it. He was happy for her nevertheless. She was a fantastic girl, and any boy she deigned to like was far more fortunate than he would ever know.

* * *

Lynn Loud Sr. had just gotten into bed when the phone on the nightstand rang, startling him so badly that he jumped. In the bathroom, something dropped to the floor, which told him that it startled Rita too.

They maintained a landline because it was bundled with their internet and cable, otherwise they would have gotten rid of it. Only important calls came through on it: The school, bill collectors, and utility companies. Lynn glanced at the clock. It was almost 9:30 in the evening, far too late for any of those.

Furrowing his brow, he picked up the handset and pressed it to his ear. "Loud residence," he said.

"Mr. Loud," a vaguely familiar voice said, "it's Todd Randall."

Lynn sat up straight. "H-Hello, Dr. Randall."

Dr. Randall sighed. "We told Linka, and she's very excited to hear she has a brother."

A smile crept across Lynn's face. "That's great. How is she taking it? Overall?"

"Well," Dr. Randall said. "Much better than either my wife or I expected. I'm sure there will be...doubts, but right now, on the surface, she seems to be completely fine."

"I'm glad to hear that," Lynn said. Rita was standing at the bathroom door now, looking at him with questioning eyes.

"I was thinking we could meet this Friday or Saturday," Dr. Randall said.

"Either day works," Lynn said quickly.

Ten minutes later, he hung up the phone. Rita was sitting next to him now, clutching her nightdress in one hand. "So...it's a go?"

"It is," Lynn said and looked at her. Earlier, he showed her the picture of Linka, and she teared up much the way he had. _She looks just like Lincoln,_ she said. Since then, he sensed the same resurgence of loss that he had been feeling since he himself looked at the photo. Even after all these years, it hurt that she wasn't here with them. Lynn, at least, could rest assured that she was loved and happy where she was, which was good enough for him.

He swung his legs out from under the covers. "I'm going to go tell Lincoln."

Rita got up and followed him. She wouldn't miss her son's happy reaction for the world.

In the hall, Luna was shredding her guitar and Lisa was standing by her door, her hands on her hips and an angry scowl on her face. "Luna," Lynn said, "I think it's time to put the ax away."

"Alright, Dad!" she cried, jumped into the air, and landed on her knees with one final strum. At Lincoln's door, Lynn knocked.

"Yeah?"

He opened the door and poked his head in. Lincoln was lounging on his bed, a comic in his hands. He saw his father and blinked. "Hey."

"Hey," Lynn said, coming in and sitting. Rita stood by the door. "I have some good news."

Lincoln sat up straight and put the comic in his lap, his brow furrowed quizzically. Good news? He wasn't expecting news of any sort. "We found Linka."

Upon hearing those words, Lincoln's eyes lit up. "Really?" he asked excitedly.

Lynn nodded. "Yep. She lives in Detroit. A half hour away." He laid his hand on his son's leg. "I went and talked to her father today, and you're going to meet her this Friday."

He didn't think it was possible, but his son's eyes got even wider. "This Friday? Really?" He looked like a boy who had just been told Christmas was coming early, and Lynn couldn't help smile as he nodded.

"That's great!"

In fact, he was so excited that he barely slept that night...which he sorely regretted the next morning.


	15. A Week of Nerves

**MormonStereotype: I had no idea who that was, so I had to look him up. I like when people come up with their own interpretations of my characters, so by all means, keep picturing him. Personally, when I was writing him I kept seeing Alec Baldwin as he appeared in Beetlejuice. Not exactly, but close.**

 **STR2D3PO: They're not exactly identical, but they're almost identical. I imagine her having smoother, softer features (because she's a girl and not a boy) and similar teeth, though not exactly chipped the way Lincoln's are.** **  
**

* * *

Tuesday evening. Linka sat cross-legged on her bed, the Stradivarius propped between her chin and her shoulder, the bow resting against the strings. Hawthorne lay on his side before her, his head cocked and his eyes wide. _What are you doing with that thing, Linka? Is it dangerous?_ "Of course it isn't, silly," she said, and drew the bow across the strings, producing a low sound. "It's just a violin." She closed her eyes and started to play, aimlessly at first, then settling into Beethoven's _Ode to Joy_ , a piece that always put her at ease even when she was really, really stressed. Her fingers worked confidently over the fingerboard, and her bow strokes were light, fleeting. She closed her eyes and let the music work through her like a curative tonic, her anxiety (as unfounded as it may be) melting like ice.

Her mind drifted as she played. Visions flashed across the backs of her eyelids: Her mother's face, her father's, a thousand precious memories like faded, sepia toned snapshots: Birthday parties, Christmas mornings, kisses, cuddles, the way her father would carry her to bed when she fell asleep on the couch when she was little – sometimes she would only pretend to be asleep because she felt safe and warm in his arms – her and her mother baking a cake and her mother laughingly smearing frosting on the tip of her nose, her father holding her hand as she wobbled on her first big girl bike...there were no training wheels and she was so scared of falling, but Daddy was there and he said it would be okay, and when he let go it was, she didn't fall and she was so, so proud of herself. Tears streamed down her face as she drew the bow back and forth.

She was vaguely aware of transitioning to the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's _Messiah_. The memories came faster now, the feelings associated with them becoming stronger, deeper. Eleven years of love and tender warmth flooded over her, and she played more quickly, as though by doing so she could outrun the shapeless doubts that had been plaguing her since her parents told her about the adoption. They loved her...she knew that...it was as plain to see as the nose on the end of her own face...but deep inside, she wondered if perhaps they would stop. It was a dreadful thought, one that filled her with fear and guilt, because her rational self knew that it was awful and unfair to ever even _imagine_ her parents doing that. One's rational self, however, is often not as strong or bold as one's irrational self, and Linka's irrational self had been whispering terrible things into her ear since last night while her rational self chose this of all times to try communicating exclusively in Morse Code via blinking.

But she had a brother, a twin, a yin to her yang, a left to her right, an up to her down. It was not until she learned of his existence that she realized just how sorely she wanted a sibling, someone to share her thoughts and secrets with, someone with whom she could establish a special connection...someone with whom she could be equal and confide in the way one could not confide in their parents. She smiled as she reached Handel's end; the anxiety lurked beneath the surface, but she finally knew what she was missing, and she was no longer missing it.

She wiped the tears away from her eyes and sat the violin in her lap. When her mother spoke from the doorway, she started. "That was beautiful."

Linka looked at her, and she was teary-eyed too. She came over and sat down on the bed, her hand instantly going to her daughter's face.

"Thank you," Linka said.

"You realize your father and I will never stop loving you...right?"

Linka nodded. She did realize that. "I know."

"We're being sincere when we say you're the light of our lives." Her voice broke and she rested her forehead against Linka's. "We couldn't imagine life without you."

"I couldn't imagine life without you," Linka replied, blinking back tears. "I love you and Daddy so much. Thank you for adopting me."

"It was the best decision we ever made," Mom replied, and kissed her forehead. "You're our everything, Linka. Please never think doubt that."

Thirty miles away as the crow flies, Lincoln Loud jumped up and snatched the ball from the air. It was cold, and dusk was beginning to pool in the backyard, but he offered no complaint or protest.

"Every day, Loud," Lynn said, "you're getting better every day."

"I have a pretty good teacher," he smiled, and threw the ball back. Lynn caught it and nearly fell.

"So a twin," Lynn said, tossing it back. She and Lincoln had not discussed the topic of Linka one-on-one. "That's pretty wild."

"I know," Lincoln said, snapping the ball. Lynn grabbed it effortlessly. "I'm drowning in sisters as it is."

Lynn laughed as she threw the ball back. "Right? You just can't catch a break. Unless y..." she trailed of.

Lincoln cocked his head, his arm back and the ball poised. "Unless what?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," Lynn said and shook her head. She held up her hands and shifted from one foot to the other. "Throw the ball," she said.

"Unless what?" he persisted.

Lynn sighed. "I was just going to say unless your...blood mom or dad have other kids that you don't know about." She looked away, uncomfortable. "I don't...you know...I don't want to bring them or...that up, you know?"

She was hesitant, like his other sisters, to bring up the fact that he was adopted. He figured they saw it as opening a wound that was trying to heal, and while he appreciated it, there was really no point in tiptoeing around the subject. He was adopted. He knew it, they knew it, and at the end of the day, it was alright, because they loved him and he loved them and there was no other place on earth he belonged.

"I've thought about that," he said honestly, and threw the ball back. "It's kind of...I don't know...I don't like not knowing."

"I wouldn't either," Lynn said, catching the ball. "Then again...who's to say Dad doesn't have another kid floating around out there, you know?"

Lincoln's brow furrowed. "Another kid?"

Lynn shrugged. "Sure. I mean...what if he cheated on Mom or something, or got some girl pregnant before they met?"

For a moment Lincoln thought about that. "I don't think Dad would cheat on Mom," he said.

"I dunno," Lynn replied. "I heard there was this guy once who was a minister or something and he had a whole second family that no one knew about until he died." She tossed the ball, and Lincoln caught it.

"Wait...he had two families at the same time? How's that even possible?"

Lynn shrugged. "I dunno."

"Did he spend six months with one family then six months with the other? No one ever found it strange that dad was not around for half the year?" He chuckled. "I bet Christmas mornings were hectic."

Lynn snickered. "Poor guy probably spent most of his money on airfare back and forth."

Lincoln pulled back to throw the ball, but Mom called out the back door that dinner was ready. "Wouldn't it be funny if dude had a son in one family and a daughter in the other, then the son and daughter met up, not knowing they were brother and sister, and became boyfriend and girlfriend?" Lynn asked as they walked across the yard.

"Uh, no, that would not be funny, it would be terrible."

Lynn chuckled. "They wouldn't know until their baby was born with tentacles and shit."

Lincoln gagged. "You're gross."

She laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. "You better watch out, Linc, you might wind up doing your sister one day."

A shiver ran through Lincoln's body; the thought of having sex with his sister repulsed him. "Not if I become a priest," he said.

* * *

Thursday afternoon. In just a little over twenty-four hours, Linka would meet her brother. The excitement she had felt since Monday evening remained, but now she was starting to get nervous. What if he didn't like her? What if they had nothing in common? They had been raised by two different families, which meant that they might very well be two entirely different people. The prospect of finally having a brother but being separated from him by a gulf of morals, culture, worldview, outlook, and whatever else depressed her.

Presently, she was sitting in history class and dividing her attention between the teacher and Kyle Mountcastle, who sat three seats ahead of her in the far left row. That morning when she got to school, she spotted him standing against a tree and looking nervous. He glanced up, saw her, and froze, a tiny smile coming to his lips. She smiled too, and he came over, trying to look casual but looking jittery instead, which was cute. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," she replied, her heart starting to race.

"I was, uh, just hanging out and I wondered if maybe I could walk you to class."

"S-Sure," she said. "That'd be great."

He smiled. "Cool."

They walked side-by-side, neither knowing what to say. Kyle finally broke the silence. "I'm really looking forward to the dance."

Linka nodded. "Me too."

"I'm not a good dancer," he said, "and I wasn't going to go, but..." he shrugged.

"I'm not very good either," she laughed, "and I didn't know if I was going to go...but then you asked me."

He smiled and bowed his head. "Yeah. I'm kind of scared of looking stupid, but, you know...my dad says sometimes you have to take risks. No risk, no reward."

She grinned. "Okay, the risk is looking stupid, but what's the reward?" She stole a furtive glance at him; his cheeks were red.

"Spending time with you," he said, and she giggled, her own face flushing.

"I don't know if that's much of a reward."

"I-I think it is." They looked at each other, their eyes meeting; Linka's heart slammed against her ribs and her stomach rippled. "I think you're really cool. I mean, what I know of you, and I want to get to know more. You play the violin, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah, sometimes."

"That's really cool. My dad made me take violin lessons, but I was so awful that the third time I came over the tutor locked me out and wouldn't let me in."

Linka giggled. "I'm sorry, that's mean. Who was your tutor?"

"Mrs. Wadsworth."

Linka gasped. "That's _my_ tutor."

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah. I knew she was mean, but locking the door?" she giggled again.

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"Two years."

Kyle whistled. "She's kind of...uh...scary. She reminds me of a witch from a fairy tale or something."

Linka nodded. "She's...hard, but..." here she tilted her head back and smiled smugly, "she complimented me."

Kyle glanced at her appreciatively. "That old crone's capable of complimenting people?"

Linka shrugged. "From what I hear it doesn't happen very often, so I'm proud of myself."

"I bet you're really good."

"Kind of. I guess."

They reached Linka's classroom, and she groaned inwardly: She didn't want this moment to end. "Uh, here we are," Kyle said.

"Here we are."

He looked at her and smiled. "I had fun. I mean, getting to know you, and walking, but mainly getting to know you."

Linka laughed. "So did I. Maybe you can walk me somewhere else?"

His eyes lit up. "Sure, I'd love to...if you want."

She nodded. "I do."

Watching him now, she sighed. Despite finding out that her parents weren't really her parents and irrationally worrying that she would wake up one morning to find that they had stopped loving her, life was good. A cute boy liked her, she was going to meet her twin brother, and her father and mother loved her even though she wasn't their real daughter. Sure, the worry was there and she had had a couple nightmares that she didn't like to think about, but overall, things were great.

Now only if she wasn't so nervous about meeting Lincoln...

* * *

Thursday night. Lincoln lie awake in bed, the cold autumn moonlight making strange, expressionist shapes on the wall. It was half past midnight by the clock on the nightstand, and while he was tired, his mind raced. Tomorrow (today, rather), his parents would pick him up after school and take him to meet Linka. He was excited, but nervous as well; this was his sister – his real, honest-to-god flesh and blood sister – and he knew absolutely nothing about her. Isn't that strange? 'Meeting' your sister like she's some random person off the street? Sure, it could be said that he 'met' Lucy and Lana and Lola and Lisa and Lilly, but that was different; he met them at square one. Linka was his age, eleven, and had already become her own person. What kind of person, he didn't know, and that was scary, because maybe they wouldn't get along.

He would do everything he could to get along with her, though. He wanted to love her like he loved his other sisters, and he wanted her to love him like they loved him. That was kind of strange too, how important it was to him that she love him. When you got right down to it, she kind of _was_ just a random person. He had history with his other sisters, love and memories and joys and sorrows. They weren't related to him by blood, but they were related to him by experience; they were his sisters as surely as any girl could ever be a sister. Linka was...well, she wasn't. They did not grow up together, they did not have a lifetime of memories and bonding. All they had was blood, and at the end of the day, blood doesn't mean anything, right?

Right?

Well...he didn't know. It didn't mean anything when it came to his parents and his sisters. With Linka...maybe it was more of a starting point? A foundation?

Regardless of everything else...it would be nice to have a real sister...someone he was actually related to...someone who was kind of like a piece of him, an anchor. He turned over and snuggled into his pillow, but sleep continued to elude him. He reached for the picture on the nightstand and held it close to his face. It was scary how much she looked like him...but every time he looked at it, he felt...complete.

He hoped they got along and they could build a relationship. Not having her would be almost as bad as not having Lynn, or Lucy, or Lori. Random person...no, she wasn't. Blood might not be everything, but it's something. Something small, maybe, but all great things start small, don't they? Every classic piece of literature, every skyscraper, every president or great military leader, every great nation...it all starts out as a single line on a page, or a slab of concrete, or a squirming baby, or a settlement on the edge of a vast and uncharted wilderness.

He rolled onto his back and sighed. She wanted to meet him, at least; that counted for a lot. He just hoped he didn't disappoint her.

If there was one thing Lincoln Loud did not like to do, it was disappoint his sisters.


	16. Reunion

They met at a McDonald's off I-75 half way between Detroit and Royal Woods. Lincoln and his parents arrived first, parking in a slot facing the cyclone fence running along the interstate's gravel shoulder.

All day Lincoln had been sick with nerves. When he climbed into the van, his chest tightened, and with every mile they put behind him, it became a little harder to breathe. Moment of truth, he told himself repeatedly.

"Are you excited?" Dad asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "But I'm kind of nervous too."

"So are we," Dad replied, and unbuckled his seatbelt.

"Don't worry, honey," Mom said. "Just be yourself and everything will be fine. Your other ten sisters love you to pieces, and Linka will too."

"I hope," Lincoln sighed and got out. The day was overcast and blustery; a cold gust of wind that smelled like highway – diesel, exhaust fumes – washed over him and kicked bits of litter along the pavement. He closed the door and waited for his mother to get out, his arms awkwardly at his sides.

They met Dad at the back of the van. He was looking down at his cellphone. "They're running a little late," he said, then put it in his pocket. Lincoln didn't mind. That gave him more time to psyche himself up.

Inside, the dining room was empty save for a black family occupying a table by the bathrooms and a man in a blue vest and green John Deere cap in a booth. The tiled floor was sticky, straw wrappers and napkins lying here and there. "Over here," Dad said, nodding to a table by the window looking into the indoor play place. Lincoln sat in the middle, facing the door, and his parents sat on either side, Mom putting her purse on the table. "This place is a shambles," she whispered.

"Yeah," Dad said, glancing at the counter, his hands steepled before him, "maybe we should have picked somewhere else to meet."

"Like the dump," Mom said. "It would be cleaner."

Dad chuckled. "It's about Lincoln and Linka not the place." He looked at Lincoln. "You ready for this, son?"

Lincoln nodded against his nerves. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Dad smiled. "From what Dr. Randall said, Linka's great. I'm sure you two will get along just fine." He glanced at the counter again; an extremely obese man in a maroon hoodie was ordering a massive quantity of food...all for himself, presumably.

Now that they were here, Lynn regretted choosing a McDonald's. Yes, this entire thing was about Lincoln and Linka meeting, but the Randalls were certainly a wealthy family, and Lynn was acutely aware of how lowbrow McDonald's might seem to people like that. In his defense though, he was thinking mainly of a place with an indoor playground, and they don't usually have those at fancy sit-down restaurants. It wouldn't be so bad if the place was at least clean. He saw half a dozen employees behind the counter, some of them milling in the kitchen with their arms crossed...one couldn't come out and sweep or run a mop?

"I can't believe we're going to see her," Rita said. "I never thought we would."

"Me either," Lynn replied. He remembered standing at the window and saying goodbye to her all those years ago, his heart hurting and his cheeks wet with tears. In truth, he figured that she and Lincoln would find each other one day, but not this soon.

Sitting between his parents, Lincoln rested his hands on the table and took slow, deep breaths. _It's just your sister. You heard Dad; she's cool and you'll get along fine_.

"It looks like it's going to rain," Mom said by way of conversation. Lincoln studied her face, then his father's. They didn't exactly look as nervous as he felt, but he could tell they were feeling something, which was nice, because at least he wasn't alone. Like Lucy always said, misery loves company. He smiled at that. She could be such a weirdo sometimes, but he loved her with all his heart.

Dad sighed and sat back, his arms folding across his chest. "Yeah, it's supposed to be a washout tomorrow."

Mom rolled her eyes. "When does it start?"

"Tonight, I think."

Something buzzed against Lincoln's leg, and he jumped. His parents looked at him as he chuckled nervously and took his phone out. He had a text from Ronnie Anne. He opened it and read it: _Good luck. You're a really great guy and your sis is gonna love you._ It was followed by a heart. A hazy smile crossed Lincoln's lips as he typed out a reply. Ronnie Anne was like that candy whose name he currently couldn't remember: Hard-shell on the outside, soft, gooey stuff on the inside. He was really fortunate to have her.

Dad leaned over. "I take it that's Ronnie Anne."

Lincoln nodded, hit SEND, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "She was just wishing me good luck."

"Aw, that's nice," Mom said. "You know, you should invite her over for dinner one day. And Lori could bring Bobby. Two of my kids are dating and I really don't know anything about who they're with."

"We know Bobby well enough," Dad said. "He seems like a good kid. Hard worker. Ronnie Anne's his sister so that should tell you everything you need to know."

Mom laughed. "Not really. Lynn and Luan are sisters, and they're as dissimilar as you can get."

Dad shrugged. "As far as personalities go, but they're both good girls with good heads on their shoulders."

Mom threaded her fingers through Lincoln's hair. "We have good kids."

"Yes, we do," Dad agreed. He looked at Lincoln. "You planning on taking her out sometime?"

"We go out," Lincoln said. "We went to the arcade last weekend and the pizza place."

Dad smiled. "I mean on a _real_ date. To a movie and a fancy sit down restaurant with candles on the tables and stuff."

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah, that's not really her style. You know, she's kind of like Lynn...like not really girly." He sighed dreamily. That's one of the things he liked most about her. She wasn't all pink and frilly. She liked video games and riding bikes and things like that. It was like she wasn't just his girlfriend, but his best friend as well (sorry, Clyde).

Dad sat back. "Oh, well, whatever works for you guys. Your mother liked romantic dinners."

"I still do," she grinned.

Dad spread his hands. "Bon appetit."

Mom laughed. "Big Macs are hardly romantic."

Lincoln's phone buzzed again, and he checked it. Ronnie Anne sent him a kissy face, and he sent one back.

"Is that them?" Mom asked, and Lincoln looked up. Outside, a gray BMW was pulling into a slot along the restaurant's front.

"That looks like something he might drive," Dad said.

Lincoln's heart was suddenly pounding, and a mass of nerves rolled slickly across his stomach. He hoped it wasn't them...he needed more time...like a week, or a month. The driver side door opened, and a man in a suit got out. He was tall and thin with blonde hair and glasses.

"Yeah, that's him," Dad said, and Lincoln's stomach lurched. Alright. Moment of truth. He took a deep, shuddery breath and tried to get a reign on his runaway heart. Mom laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

The passenger side door opened next, and a woman with red hair climbed out. She was wearing black boots, black pants, and a heavy gray coat with big black buttons. She closed the door and crossed her arms over her chest as though she were freezing. Lincoln craned his neck as the back door opened.

When Linka appeared, Mom gasped and put her hands over her mouth. "Oh, my God, there she is."

She was wearing a green skirt, long socks, and a green blazer over a white blouse with a red tie. She wore an orange clip in her hair. She stood stiffly behind her mother, her hands clasped before her and her head slightly bowed, the window tossing her long, snowy hair. Her mother put her arm around her shoulder, and she looked up at her, nodding.

Lincoln took a deep breath as they came inside, Linka's father looking around and spotting them with a nod. His eyes were glued to his sister as she approached. It was like looking into a mirror...the only difference was that her hair was longer, otherwise they might as well have been the same person.

Dad got up and shook with Linka's father. "Dr. Randall."

"I'm off the clock, call me Todd," he said, then stepped aside, gesturing to the woman. "This is my wife, Karen."

Dad shook with her next. "It's nice to meet you," she said.

"This is Rita," Dad said, and Mom shook over the table with each of them. "And, of course, Lincoln."

Lincoln glanced up at the same time Linka did. Their eyes locked, and his throat went dry. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied demurely.

Todd smiled warmly at him. "It's good to see you again, son. The last time I saw you, you were a foot and a half long."

"Linka, you're so beautiful," Mom said.

"Thank you," she replied.

They sat across from Lincoln and his parents, Linka's mother and father on either side of her just like his were.

"I apologize for the delay," Todd said. "We were so caught up in...preparing ourselves that we completely forgot Linka had a violin lesson today...until the last minute. There's a fee for late cancelations, so we had to make a stop."

"That's fine," Dad said, "we haven't been here very long."

Todd smiled. "Linka's been talking about this for days." He put his hand on his daughter's shoulder, and her cheeks turned red. "She's just a little shy."

"So is Lincoln," Mom said, "when he saw you getting out of the car he looked like he'd seen a ghost."

Lincoln shot her a look. "Mom..."

"It was cute," Mom said, and touched his face.

"Don't make me look like a dork in front of my sister," her blurted.

Everyone laughed, even Linka, and Lincoln's face burned. "Are you hungry, sweetie?" Karen asked her daughter. Linka shook her head.

"Lincoln?" Dad asked.

His stomach was churning. "No," he said.

"Why don't you two go play?" Todd asked, putting a hand on his daughter's back. "Get acquainted."

Linka looked up at him. "D-Do you want to?"

"Sure. Yeah."

"Go on," Dad said, patting him on the back.

Nodding, Lincoln got up and Linka did likewise. Lincoln felt extremely self-conscious as he walked to the door connecting the dining room to the playground. He held it, and Linka went through. "Thank you," she said.

Inside, it was colder than it was in the dining room, the only illumination the murky afternoon light. Linka went over to the plastic shoe rack, slipped out of her shoes, and then put them into one of the cubby holes. Lincoln sat on a bench and untied his shoes, then slipped them into another of the holders as Linka took her blazer off and laid it carefully on a table.

She looked up at the towering mass of tunnels, tubes, and enclosures. "I-It's been a long time since I played in one of these," she said.

"M-Me too," Lincoln replied.

"There's really not much to it," she said. "Just...crawling and stuff." She laughed nervously and climbed onto the raised platform in front of the tube leading in. "I guess we can go in and talk or something."

"That sounds nice," Lincoln said.

She ducked into the tube and then climbed the wide stairs leading up. Lincoln followed, the hard plastic hurting his knees. He played in these things with his sisters a million times when he was little, and he could not remember his knees ever hurting, even after an hour or more.

At the top of the stairs, a red tunnel lead to an enclosed platform with a spongey floor. Linka hurriedly crawled toward it. When she was in, she sat against one of the walls and drew her knees to her chest. "Ouch," she said, rubbing them.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, sitting against the opposite wall and drawing his knees to his chest in an identical posture, "I don't remember...it being so hard on the knees."

"Part of getting old, I guess," Linka said. "My dad's forty-two and sometimes when he gets up in the morning he looks like a zombie." She giggled.

"I'm eleven and sometimes when I get up in the morning _I_ look like a zombie."

Linka smiled. "You're not a morning person?"

Lincoln shook his head. "No. Well...sometimes, I guess, but not all the time. Or most the time."

She shrugged. "I like mornings. Kind of. I don't really struggle with them."

An awkward silence fell over them, and Lincoln wracked his brain for something – anything – to say. He didn't want to hand her a laundry list of questions, because that seemed kind of...artificial? Was that the right word? It just didn't seem like a natural course for a conversation to take. He finally snatched something from the ether. "So...you just found out you're adopted?"

Linka nodded. "Umhm. They told me...Monday, I think. I got home from a friend's house and they were waiting for me." She chuckled anxiously. "I thought they were going to tell me they were getting a divorce."

Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck. "D-Do they fight a lot?"

Linka shook her head. "No. They're pretty happy. I just...you know...that's kind of scary, your parents splitting up like that."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "I've worried about my parents breaking up. How...how are you taking it?"

She shrugged. "Okay. It came as quite a shock, finding out your parents aren't your parents. It was kind of like..."

"Everything changed?" Lincoln supplied.

She nodded. "Yeah. I know my parents love me, but I still kind of worry they'll stop." Here she bowed her head sadly, and Lincoln's heart broke. He crawled over and sat next to her, looking nervously down at his lap.

"I-I felt the same way. I had nightmares about them...like...abandoning me and stuff."

"Me too," Linka said. "How did you get over it?"

Lincoln shrugged. "I haven't. N-Not entirely. I still kind of worry, but it's, like, deep down. I have a friend who's also adopted, and he told me to take it one step at a time." Lincoln looked up and stared at the plastic window across the way. "He said after a while, you'll see that your parents still love you and they won't stop."

Next to him, Linka nodded. "That's pretty good advice."

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "And I had my sisters – my adopted sisters – to help me. They're really great."

Linka glanced at him. "How many do you have?"

"Ten," Lincoln said.

Linka's jaw dropped. "Wow. That's a lot of sisters. What's it like?"

Lincoln smiled. "It gets crazy sometimes. I'm right in the middle. Five older, five younger. We're all really close, though, so it's alright. You're an only child, right?"

"Yeah."

"What's _that_ like? I've always kind of wondered."

Linka sighed and hugged her knees. "It gets lonely sometimes. I have a cat named Hawthorne and he keeps me company, so it's not _that_ bad." She smiled and tilted her head back. "He always seems to know when I need him, and whenever I get really lonely here he comes."

"That's really nice," Lincoln said.

"We've had him forever," Linka said, the conversation flowing easier now. "I got him for Christmas when I was, like, three."

"I have a cat named Cliff," Lincoln said, "and a dog named Charles. To be honest, I don't even see them half the time. There's so much activity."

"I bet, with ten sisters." She smiled wistfully. "I've always wanted a sibling. When Mom and Dad told me about you, I got really excited." She glanced at him. "I've really been looking forward to meeting you."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you too," Lincoln said. "I was really nervous." He laughed, realizing that somewhere in the last few minutes his nerves had loosened.

"So was I," Linka said. "I was like 'who is he? What's he like? Will we get along?'" She laughed.

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah, me too. I was really stressing about it. That's one of my bad habits. I stress a lot."

Linka laughed and nodded. "Me too. And a lot of the time it winds up being over nothing."

"I guess it runs in the family," he said, and a smile touched Linka's lips. _Family,_ she thought. She looked at him and studied his face...so much like her own. She was always aware that she didn't look like her mother or father, but she looked like Lincoln. It was painfully obvious that they were family, and something about that warmed Linka's heart.

An idea occurred to her. "Hey...do you wanna play a game?"

"What kind of game?" he asked.

She turned, reached out, and poked his shoulder. "Tag, you're it."

Before he could react, she spun and scurried out of the enclosure and into a tunnel, her giggles echoing behind her. "Hey!" Lincoln laughed, and gave chase.

"You can't get me!" she called.

* * *

"So, Rita," Todd Randall asked, taking a drink from a lidless cup of Mr. Pibb, "what do you do for work?"

Lincoln and Linka had been in the playground for nearly ten minutes, and try as they might, none of the parents could spot them. "They're probably talking," Todd had said. "Knowing Linka she probably won't be comfortable until she gets to know him on a cerebral level. She's never been a superficial girl." That made sense to Rita, because Lincoln was the same way. He had never been able to loosen up until he had a working understanding of the person he was dealing with. She said as much, and Todd smiled warmly. "They're deep children."

Presently, Rita sat her own cup down. Like Lynn, she found herself feeling self-conscious. From the clothes they wore to the BMW in the parking lot (not to mention Linka's private school uniform), she inferred that they were at least moderately wealthy. "I work in a dentist's office," she said.

Todd laughed. "Ah, dentistry, the one medical profession that hasn't changed much over the years." He made a drill with his thumb and forefinger. "Still only one way to get at a tooth."

"Don't I know it," Rita chuckled. "My kids hate going to the dentist. My daughter Luan has braces, and when they were putting them on you'd think she was being murdered."

"We've considered braces for Linka," Karen said. "Partly for the cosmetic aspect, but mainly because she's always had very weak teeth."

Rita nodded. "Lincoln too. He's had more cavities than the rest of our children combined, and he doesn't eat very much sugar...very little candy, soda once in a blue moon."

"It was probably the malnutrition," Karen said, then looked hurriedly away as though she had mentioned something that was meant to be unspoken. A pall fell over the table, and for a moment no one spoke.

Todd broke the silence, sounding nervous. "W-We all know how Lincoln and Linka's mother, so-called, treated them." He looked down at his lap.

"Yes," Rita said, an edge creeping into her voice the way it always did when the subject of Lincoln's mother came up. "I know all too well."

Karen shook her head. "I often ask myself who could _do_ such a thing. I look at Linka...she's so bright and so beautiful...so loving...what kind of _monster_ could treat her that way?" Her eyes were misty with emotion.

Rita sighed. "I don't know. I think the same thing. Lincoln's such a beautiful boy...he's perfect in every way...and the thought of what she did to him..." she trailed off, her own eyes beginning to leak. Lynn put his arm around her shoulder.

"It worked out," he said.

"It did," Todd added. "They were both adopted by loving families, and what that woman did do them is so remote it might as well not have happened at all." He lifted his cup to his lips.

Rita nodded, then changed the subject. "You said Linka plays the violin?"

"Oh, yes," Karen nodded, a proud smile coming to her face. "She's _very_ good."

"My daughter Luna plays the guitar," Rita said.

" _And_ the drums," Lynn added, rubbing his temple in memory of headaches past. "She even has a set of bagpipes. Those are fun."

Todd laughed. "I tried to learn the bagpipes when I was in high school. It struck me as an interesting and obscure instrument. I had them for two days, then I was practicing in my room when my father came in and, without a word, took them away and threw them out the window." He chuckled at the memory. "He put his finger in my face and said 'No more.'" Lynn and Rita laughed easily. "And that was that. I never touched the bagpipes again."

"They were a gift from my aunt," Lynn said, "and I've always kind of suspected that she didn't like me. When Luna opened them on Christmas morning, I knew."

Todd chuckled. "Does she play them often?"

"Not really," Lynn said, "but every once in a while I'll be making dinner or walking through the hall and I'll hear them and wince. She's good...but bagpipes are bagpipes. I think your father may have been onto something."

In the playground, Linka climbed out of the slide and laughingly ran toward the tunnel that led into the structure. She ducked behind the shoe holder, and Lincoln appeared, stumbling as he jumped off. He started toward the tunnel, and Linka jumped up with a squeal, ducking into the tube and hurriedly crawling away. Lincoln jerked, and ran after her, a smile on his face.

Their parents watched them, each with a smile on their face. "Look how much fun they're having," Karen said, and sighed. "I feel so bad because Linka gets so lonely." Her voice hitched and she wiped tears from her eyes. "We were going to adopt again, but with life and our careers, we just never got around to it." Her husband put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. "She was so excited when she found out she had a brother."

"I knew they'd get along," Rita said. Lincoln crawled out of the tube with Linka in hot pursuit. He threw a glance over his shoulder, screamed, and then streaked around to the slide, but she caught him, slapping him on the shoulder and then beginning the cycle all over. Their muffled laughter was audible even over the rising din of the rapidly filling dining room. Todd Randall watched them play with a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. It was good to see Linka being a kid. With the violin lessons and private schools and all that other crap, she rarely had time to cut loose, and when she did, she had no one to cut loose _with_.

"They're like two halves of a whole," Lynn said.

"Yes, they are," Todd said. Karen watched intently, a hazy look in her eyes. In the playground, the game of tag seemed to have come to an end. Linka motioned Lincoln to stand back, then did a cartwheel. She smiled proudly and nodded to him. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. She urged him on, and he tried, collapsing to the floor, making everyone at the table laugh.

A look of horror crossed Linka's face, and she knelt beside him. He got to a sitting position and nodded that he was okay. Linka smiled and helped him up...then she flicked his cowlick and took off.

"You know," Karen said, "you can always send Lincoln to our house for the weekend. I'm sure Linka would _love_ that."

"And Linka's always welcome at our house," Rita said. "With so many bodies, it gets hectic, but our daughters really want to meet her and...and be her sisters too."

Karen smiled. "They sound like very sweet girls."

Afternoon turned to evening as the two siblings played, each one relishing the company of the other. When they broke and came back into the dining room, they were both red-faced and panting. "No you _didn't,_ " Lincoln laughed as he sat between his parents.

"I _did_ ," Linka mugged, sitting between hers. "Just admit it. I won more games of tag than you."

"Because you cheated."

Linka's jaw dropped in an expression of faux-shock. "I would _never_ cheat."

"Like you never cheat at checkers?" her father asked.

"And backgammon?" her mother added.

Linka's face reddened even more and she sighed. "Okay, maybe I _did_ cheat...but just a little." She held her thumb and forefinger roughly an inch apart. "And he cheated too!"

"Tit for tat," Lincoln said, and she playfully stuck her tongue out.

"You kids hungry now?" Karen asked.

"Yes," Linka said.

"Kind of," Lincoln said, then: "Really."

While Lynn and Todd went up to the counter, Karen put her arm around her daughter's shoulder while Rita stroked the back of her son's neck. "Did you have fun?" Karen asked. Linka looked up at her with a sunny smile and nodded.

Rita asked Lincoln the same, and he nodded. "She's really awesome...even if she _does_ cheat."

"It runs in the family," she said.

Todd and Lynn returned shortly with the food: Chicken nuggets, fries, and juice for both of them. Lincoln didn't realize how hungry he was until the food was laid out before him. His and Linka's parents chatted while he and his sister ate. Lincoln watched her, his heart swelling with love and happiness. He really liked her, and he was not looking forward to leaving.

Linka caught him looking at her and narrowed her eyes. "What's that?" he asked, nodding. She turned, and he plucked a chicken nugget off her tray. She whipped around. "Hey!"

He tossed it into his mouth and held his hands up. "Wasn't me."

She retaliated by snatching his juice. "Hey, I need that!"

Laughing, she put the straw between her lips and drank. "Wasn't me," she said, deepening her voice teasingly.

He pouted, and she sighed. "Not the puppy dog eyes again."

He stuck out his bottom lip. "Alright," she said grudgingly, "here's your juice." She sat it down in front of him.

"Thank you," he said, taking a chicken nugget from his tray and putting it in front of her.

* * *

They parted after eight 'o'clock. The dining room was empty and a bored looking black man came from around the counter with a broom, a dustpan, and a yellow mop bucket filled with soapy water. Outside, the night was cold, but not as cold as Lincoln felt inside: He hugged his sister close, and she hugged him back. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied.

She squeezed him tighter, and he squeezed her too.

Lynn and Todd shook hands while Rita and Karen exchanged a hug. "Next weekend works for us," Todd said. "I could pick Lincoln up, or drop Linka off...whichever one. I suppose they should choose among themselves."

"That sounds great," Lynn said.

"Take care of him," Karen said as she and Rita embraced. "He's a wonderful boy."

"I will," Rita said, "and you take care of Linka. She's a darling."

Lincoln watched as the BMW pulled off, his hands in his pockets. Linka smiled wanly and waved from the back of the car. Lincoln waved back. She smirked and stuck her tongue out. He stuck his out as well. He watched the car until it merged onto the interstate and blended with the others.

Dad put his hand on Lincoln's shoulder. "So...how do you like her?"

"I love her," Lincoln said. "She's my sister, after all."

Dad smiled. "You'll see her again. In fact, we were thinking you could spend next weekend at her house. Or she could come to ours."

Lincoln's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yep. I, uh, I think you should probably go to hers first. Get her used to having someone else around before exposing her to the Loud house."

That made sense.

In the back of the BMW, Linka crossed her arms and smiled. She was sad but happy too...sad because she wasn't with her brother, but happy because he was great and nice and everything she could ever want in a sibling.

"How would you like to spend next weekend with Lincoln?" Dad asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

"I'd like that very much," Linka smiled. "Very, _very_ much."


	17. Getting Ready

**BoukenDutch: In the episode "Ties That Bind" Lincoln was all excited about the prospect of being an only child. I'm sure he and all of his other siblings have wondered from time-to-time what it would be like.**

* * *

It was well past nine 'o'clock when Lincoln and his parents got home from meeting Linka that Friday night, and the house was eerily silent, which surprised Lincoln; he expected his sisters to be waiting at the door, eager to hear all about his visit. _It's coming,_ he thought as he went upstairs, and he was right: He was in his room less than five minutes before the door burst unceremoniously open and his sisters (minus Lilly) spilled into the room, Lori at the head of the pack. "Alright, twerp," she said with a smile and dropped onto the bed, "spill the beans. How was it?"

The rest of his sisters surrounded him, their faces bright and expectant, and the bed dipped under the added weight. "Was she funny?" Luan asked.

"Does she like to rock?" Luna asked.

"Is she anything like Lana?" Lola asked.

"Is she into sports?" Lynn asked.

"Does she, like, have good fashion sense?" Leni asked.

Lincoln held up his hands. "Whoa, slow down." He shifted and drew his legs under himself to have a little space from the mass of sisters pressing insistently forward. "It went really good," he said. "She's really cool and we got along really well." He smiled. "She's great. She, uh...she plays the violin."

"Sweet," Luna said, "you can really rock with one of those."

"And she likes poetry."

A tiny smile touched Lucy's face. "Wicked."

"She mentioned Edgar Allen Poe by name."

"Double wicked."

"I don't really know if she likes sports, that never came up, and she didn't tell any jokes, but we had fun."

Luan shrugged. "It's not a long way from _fun_ to _pun_. She'll learn."

Lola crossed her arms and arched her brow, which made Lincoln a bit uncomfortable. "Uh," he said, "she wasn't like Lana that I saw...but this was our first meeting, so I don't really know." He smiled nervously, and she nodded.

"Was she like Lola?" Lana asked, crossing her own arms and glaring at her twin.

"No. I don't think."

Lori rolled her eyes. "I really wish you two would get along better. You're twins, for godsake. That's a _really_ special bond." She looked at Lincoln for support, and he nodded. "When are you going to see her again?"

"I think next weekend. I'm either going to go over to her house or she's going to come here."

"For the whole weekend?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "Dad says I should go over to her house first to, you know, get her used to the idea of having someone else around. She's an only child, so she's not really used to being around a bunch of craziness."

Lori looked at her sisters. "You guys hear that? When she comes over we have to be on our best behavior." She looked pointedly at Lisa. "No explosions." Lana. "No weird pet parades." Luna. "No pyrotechnics." Lynn. "No footballs to the face."

"No being a mean, bossy, overbearing Hitler," Lola said.

"Hey, don't call Lori Hitler," Lana said.

Lola sighed. "Of course you'd take her side..."

"She's a better sister than you are..."

" _Enough!"_ Lori roared, and everyone jumped. "You two are so terrible to each other! And you, Lola, are so disrespectful. I'm trying my best to be a good sister but you're fighting me every step of the way." Lori's voice broke, and she started to cry, hiding her face in her hands. Leni, Luna, and Luan crowded around and comforted her; everyone shot Lana and Lola daggers, and both girls bowed their heads.

Luna, Luan, Leni, and Lynn helped Lori out of the room while Lucy and Lisa brought up the rear. Lincoln looked at Lola and Lana. They both looked remorseful, and he couldn't bring himself to chastise them any further. "I didn't mean to upset her like that," Lola said seriously. "She can just be so _bossy_ sometimes."

Lincoln sighed. "She's trying to be a better sister, Lola. She...I don't know, she feels like she hasn't been a good sister to us and she really wants to change. You're always giving her a hard time, and you and Lana keep picking on each other."

"We don't _mean_ it," Lana said. "Well...most of the time."

"I know," Lincoln said. "I think she just wants to make everything happy and peaceful because she feels like that's what she has to do as a good big sister, you know?"

Lola sighed. "Yeah. I know I can be difficult, but I don't mean to be."

"Yeah, me too," Lana said.

"Changing is hard," Lincoln said, "but sometimes it's worth it."

"I feel awful now," Lola said. "I want to make it up to her."

"Make her breakfast," Lincoln said. "You know, breakfast in bed, and then apologize."

Lola and Lana looked at each other. "Neither one of us is a very good cook," Lola said.

"I'll help," Lincoln said. "How does that sound?"

The twins both hugged him. "Thanks, Linc," Lana said.

"I appreciate it," Lola added.

Lincoln smiled and hugged them back. "Now get to bed. We have to get up early if we want to make Lori a good 'I'm sorry' breakfast."

* * *

'Early' was seven 'o'clock. Lincoln set his alarm for 6:45, but hit the snooze button a few times before forcing himself out of bed and into a pair of jeans and an orange polo shirt. On Saturday mornings, he usually slept until eight, sometimes eight-thirty, and getting up any earlier left him even more of a zombie than he was during the week. Today, however, he was alright: He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and got just over seven hours of sleep. Not being nervous had a lot to do with it; he'd met his sister and she was great. What was there to stress about now?

He poked his head into Lola and Lana's room: Both girls were asleep and gently snoring. "Time to get up," he said, flicking the light on and off. Lola stirred and Lana groaned. "Come on, we have to make Lori breakfast, remember?"

Lola sat up, her head swaying back and forth and her eyelids fluttering. "Alright," she muttered, "I'm coming."

"Yeah, me too," Lana croaked. She swung her legs out from under the covers and tried to stand, but fell back against the bed, her arms flying out. "Maybe not."

After they woke up and got dressed, Lincoln led them down the stairs, through the deserted living room, and into the kitchen. The sun was just beginning to rise, and the sky was a cold, pale shade of orange. Birds chirruped happily and Lola crossed her arms against the early morning chill pervading the house. "I'll never understand why birds wake up so early."

"To get the worm," Lana said, and licked her lips. "The yummy, tasty, delicious worm."

Lola simply shook her head.

Lincoln grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet and sat it on the stove. He then went to the fridge and opened it, scanning the shelf. They had eggs, good, they had bacon, awesome. There needed to be more, though. Pancakes? French toast? Which did Lori prefer? He knew she liked both but he didn't know which she liked better. French toast was easier to make, so he went with that. He grabbed a couple eggs and the pack of bacon, and took them over to the stove. Next, he took a loaf of bread, cinnamon, and vanilla from the pantry. He sat those on the counter, then took a metal bowl and a whisk from a cabinet next to the sink.

"Alright," he said when he had everything he needed spread across the counter. Lola and Lana stood on either side of him. "First, we're going to make French toast." He broke an egg over the bowl and added the cinnamon and vanilla.

"Uh...there's egg in French toast?" Lola asked.

"Yup," Lincoln said. He handed her the bowl and the whisk. "Beat it."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Mix it up," he clarified.

Shrugging, she went over to the table, sat down, and started beating the mixture, her tongue plastered to her upper lip. He took two slices of bread from the loaf and handed them to Lana. "When she's done, dip the bread in the egg wash. Make sure both sides are coated evenly."

She nodded and went over to the table, sitting next to Lola. At the stove, Lincoln turned the burner on and sat the skillet on it. He glanced over his shoulder, and smiled as Lana and Lola worked together to coat the bread; teamwork was what he was aiming for. _Man with a plan,_ he thought.

"Is this good?" Lana asked, and he went over.

"That's fine," he said. He sat the bread on a plate, grabbed a chair, and dragged it over to the stove. "Both of you come here. Stand on the chair."

When they were standing side-by-side, he laid both slices on the skillet and stepped back. "Both sides have to be lightly browned," he said. He took a fork from the drawer and handed it to Lola, then leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms.

"How long do we leave it?" Lola asked.

"Check it in a minute or so," Lincoln said.

Both twins leaned over the skillet and watched the bread with intense interest. Lola forked one, lifted it up, then, satisfied, turned it over. "I wanna try," Lana said. Lola handed her the fork, and she did just as her sister had.

When the French toast was done, Lincoln put it on the plate and sat it aside. Next he cracked an egg over the skillet. "Add salt and pepper," he said. Lana handled the salt, Lola handled the pepper.

The bacon was next. Lincoln laid three strips out on the skillet. "It's all pale and nasty," Lana said.

"It's mostly fat," Lola said. "Is this cheap bacon, Lincy?"

Lincoln shrugged. "Probably."

After the bacon was done, Lincoln put it on the plate too. "Alright," he said, "this is good. Now you have to make the plate look nice."

He sat everything on the kitchen table and stood back while Lana and Lola set about painstakingly assembling Lori's plate. "Put the French toast like _this_ ," Lana said, and Lola nodded. "That looks good. Should the bacon go here or _here?_ " "There," Lana pointed. While they worked, Lincoln got a tray from the pantry and microwaved a mug of water for instant coffee.

"Oh, Lincy," Lola said in a singsong voice, "we're done."

Lincoln walked over and examined the plate. "Good job, guys, it looks really nice."

They both beamed.

"See what you can accomplish when you work together?"

When the water was ready, he added the coffee mix and stirred it up. He sat the plate and the mug on the tray and then carried it up the stairs, Lola and Lana following behind him. Outside of Lori and Leni's door, he handed the tray to Lola. "Alright, guys, you take it from here."

Lana opened the door for Lola, who nodded and said, "Thank you."

Lincoln crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, listening. Lola woke Lori, who muttered sleepily.

"Lana and I are sorry about being horrible to each other and...I'm sorry for being disrespectful. We made you breakfast."

Sheets rustled as, presumably, Lori sat up. "Wow, this is literally great. Thank you."

"We're sorry," the twins said in unison, and Lincoln could imagine them and Lori hugging.

Satisfied, he went downstairs to do the dishes.

* * *

Linka slept better Friday night than she had in ages: In her dreams she and her brother played in a grassy, sunlit field, both of them laughing and filled with love for one another. She felt a sense of belonging, a sense of togetherness, that she had never experienced before, and when she woke shortly before eight, she was smiling.

She stretched and sat up, disturbing Hawthorne, who was curled up next to her: He lifted his head and regarded her with annoyance. _What are you doing, Linka?_ "I'm sorry," she said, and rubbed his head. He meowed. "You can go back to sleep."

As if he understood her, he yawned and lowered his head again.

 _It's such a beautiful day,_ she thought as she looked out the window: The morning sun was bright, and a warm shaft fell across the bed. It would be even more beautiful if her brother was here to see it with her, but that was okay; she was still high from their meeting the day before.

"Today is full of possibilities," she said, not realizing she was speaking. "What will I do?" Maybe she would ask her father to take her to the museum, or to the park; she could go for a little tennis. They hadn't played in a while, and she didn't want to get rusty. She was pretty good, and though it went against her innate humility, she wasn't afraid to admit it.

Oh, dress shopping! That's right, she and her mother were going to go dress shopping. That could take a while, but surely not all day. Hm. What color dress did she want to buy? She wasn't particularly enamored of pink, but everyone said it looked good on her. Purple? Nah. Yellow? Maybe. Something pale and not overpowering.

Head in the clouds, she got up and went out into the hall. The smell of bacon scented the air, and she could hear her father and mother talking lowly. She went to the bathroom, relieved herself, then went back into her room, where she changed out of her nightdress into a pair of sweat pants and a white T-shirt. She folded her nightdress, carried it back into the bathroom ( _I really should have brought my clothes in here and saved myself a trip_ ), and sat it in the dirty clothes hamper.

When she walked into the kitchen, her father looked up from the morning paper and smiled. "There she is," he said happily. Her mother glanced over her shoulder. "Morning, sweetie."

"Morning," she chirped and sat.

"How did you sleep?" Dad asked.

"Well," she said. "You?"

"Like a baby," Dad said. "Up every two hours crying."

Linka giggled. "Why were you crying?"

"Because I wanted a bottle. Really, Linka, keep up."

Linka smacked his arm, and he laughed. "Remember what I said about you taking up boxing? You really should."

"Maybe." Then, to her mother: "Are we still going dress shopping today?"

"Of course," Mom said. She forked several strips of bacon onto a plate and brought it over to the table, setting it in front of Linka. In addition to the bacon, there were eggs, toast, and waffles. "If you want to."

"I do," Linka said.

"Are you excited for this dance?" Dad asked.

"Yeah," she said, "nervous, too."

"I bet your partner is even more nervous. What's his name again?"

"Kyle," Linka said with a smile.

"He's a lucky boy," Mom said and sat.

"He is," Dad added, "until he says or does the wrong thing and Linka knocks him out."

Linka smacked his leg, and he laughed. "Like that."

* * *

Lincoln met Ronnie Anne at the park at half past ten; she was sitting on the swing and rocking lazily back and forth when he rode up on his bike. She saw him and nodded. He nodded back, hopped off, and leaned it against a bench. It was warm and sunny, and a light coat of sweat stood out on his forehead.

He walked over and dropped onto the swing next to her, the rusted chains groaning under his weight. For a moment neither one of them spoke, then she looked at him. "How'd it go yesterday?"

Lincoln nodded. "Good. We got along really well."

Ronnie Anne grinned. "See? You were stressing over nothing. You really gotta stop doing that. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack by the time you're thirteen." She drew herself back and swung forward, her feet dragging on the ground.

"I can't help it," he said, pushing back, "that's just who I am."

Shrugging, Ronnie Anne glanced at him. "It's kind of cute...but I don't want you stroking out anytime soon. I want you to be around a while."

"I don't think I'm going anywhere," Lincoln replied. "I don't worry _that_ much."

"You ever hear the expression 'only the good die young'?"

She was going faster now, swinging back and forth like a pendulum and pumping her legs. Lincoln hurried to match her pace. "Yeah."

The frame was shaking, like it always did. One of these days, he thought, it's going to come down and kill someone. Or at least maim them.

"You're good," Ronnie Anne said. "You should be an asshole."

Lincoln chuckled. "I don't think I have it in me to be an asshole."

"Sure you do," she said, " _everyone_ has it in them. How about this: The next time you see Clyde, kick him in the nuts."

They were both soaring high into the sky, her back, him forward. "I can't do that. Clyde's my best friend. Or...kind of."

"Kind of?" Ronnie Anne asked, tossing him a glance. "I thought he was. Did you guys have a fight?"

Lincoln shook his head. "No, I just...I think you're my best friend."

Ronnie Anne giggled musically. "Yeah? So I'm pulling double duty? Girlfriend _and_ best friend?"

"I guess," Lincoln said.

"Well...you're my best friend too. And I mean that. I don't really fuck around with anyone else."

"That makes me feel special."

"You _are_ special."

They were both coming to a gradual stop. Other people were starting to come into the park, including a bunch of kids with their put-upon parents in tow. "Let's take a walk," Ronnie Anne suggested and hopped off the swing. Lincoln did the same.

As they walked toward the trail winding around the park's borders, her hand crept into his, and he threaded his fingers through hers. "What's she like?" she asked.

Lincoln thought for a long time. "Well...her parents are rich, but she's not like a snob or anything. She plays the violin, she likes, like, poetry and stuff...and she really likes tag."

Ronnie Anne's brow crinkled. "Tag?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said, then grinned. "It's a game where..."

She slapped his arm. "I know what tag is, jerk. Am I gonna get to meet her?"

"At some point," he said. They were walking along a split rail fence that flanked a stream; clear water flowed over smooth rocks. "She might come over to my house this weekend...or I might go over to hers. We haven't decided yet. I have to talk to her."

The path bent up ahead and went through a stand of forest blazing with autumnal colors. Leaves fell like embers from a fire and carpeted the way. "That's really cool," Ronnie Anne said, "I'm happy for you." She glanced at him. "So she's identical? She looks identical in that picture you showed me."

"Yeah, it's a little weird," he laughed. "She has longer hair, but otherwise...yeah, totally identical."

"That's crazy," she laughed. "Kind of weird to think there's a girl out there who looks just like you. I wonder if I'll think she's cute the way I think you are."

Lincoln shot her an arched brow. "Please don't steal my sister."

Ronnie Anne laughed richly, ducking her head and lifting her free hand to her forehead. "Dude...I like guys. Like...not girls." She squeezed his hand. "You specifically." She stopped and turned to him. "I don't want _anyone_ but you."

Lincoln smiled, and they both leaned into a kiss. "You're amazing," Ronnie Anne said and wrapped her arms around his waist. Lincoln slipped his arms around her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"So are you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "You know...I should worry about losing _you_ to one of those girls you live with."

Lincoln's brow furrowed, and she laughed. "Why does everyone keep making jokes about me being with one of my sisters? It's sick!"

Ronnie Anne giggled. "Well, they're not _really_ your sisters, and you're a great guy, so I could totally see one of them going after you."

Lincoln shuddered. It had never occurred to him to look at one of his sisters that way, and the idea of looking at them like that turned his stomach. He thought they were all pretty, sure, but there's a huge difference between thinking your sisters are pretty and wanting to be their boyfriend. Yuck. They weren't really related, but that didn't matter: They grew up together, and for the past eleven years he had looked upon them as sisters. By this point, it was far, far too late to ever see them as anything else.

Ronnie Anne giggled and hugged him tighter, a smile creeping across her upturned face. "I was joking, lame-o."

"Pretty sick joke," he smiled. They started walking again.

"Eh."

"That'd be like me joking about losing you to Bobby."

"Well, he _is_ pretty good in bed."

Lincoln face turned bright red, and Ronnie Anne laughed hysterically, stopping and holding her hands to her stomach. She looked at him, and laughed harder. "You're too easy sometimes, Loud."

"You're a weirdo," he managed.

"I'm _your_ weirdo, though," she said, and leaned into him.

"That makes it a _little_ better," he said, and held her hand.

Together, they walked through the shower of leaves, two kids in love.

* * *

Linka stood in one of the dressing rooms at _Cashmere's_ , an upscale women's shop on Newport Avenue, one of Grosse Pointe's more fashionable thoroughfares. She was naked save for a pair of pink underwear and a silver-chain necklace with a heart-shaped pendent. Inside was a picture of her father and mother. They gave it to her for her ninth birthday but she rarely wore it. Sifting through her jewelry box this morning and looking for something to wear to the dance, she came across it, and smiled at what it symbolized. She put it on, and it felt comforting, like a hug.

She studied her body, then turned to the three dresses laid out on the bench. She was not a superficial person, but she found herself wishing she was a little more...womanly...with curves and hips or something; as it stood now, she didn't have much to set her apart from a boy. If Kyle Mountcastle saw her naked, would he still like her?

That thought brought a deep blush to her face. The thought of being naked in front of _anyone,_ with her flat chest, budding nipples, and shapless form, brought a rise of panic. The thought of being naked in front of the boy she liked was, like, the most embarrassing thing _ever_. She'd probably die.

With a sigh, she scanned the dresses again. She wasn't happy with the way either of them fit her, but the pink one was probably the best of the bunch. It was long and sleeveless with a frilly hem. It was nice, but the hip area had a little extra room and she didn't like that. Hm. She liked it overall, though, and she knew that if she tried other dresses on they would fit her similarly.

"Honey?" Mom asked, and rapped lightly on the door.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

She grabbed the pink dress, stepped into it, and pulled it on, then looked at her reflection, twisting this way and that.

Alright. She opened the door and stepped out. Her father was looking at a display of purses and her mother was looking at her phone. They both glanced up when she came out, Mom's face lighting up and Dad's brows lifting. Linka suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"Oh, honey, you're beautiful!" Mom said, putting her hands up and coming over.

"You look very nice, Linka," Dad said in his normally understated way. Though he was outwardly placid, as almost always, inside he felt a rush of emotions. His little girl was growing up. Before he knew it she would be a woman, and that thought brought a tear of his eye. It's true what they say: They _do_ grow up fast.

"T-Thank you," Linka said. "I-I don't really like it. It doesn't fit well."

Mom took Linka's face in her hands and tilted her head up. "It fits _beautifully_ , honey." She turned to Dad. "Won't she be stunning?"

"She absolutely will be," he nodded.

"You really think so?" Linka asked, uncertain.

"Yes," Mom said. "You'll be the most beautiful girl there."

She smiled. "I-I'll get it. I guess."

When she got to school Monday morning, Linka saw Kyle Mountcastle standing by the front gate. He was doing his best to look casual but failing miserably; she smiled at how cute he was. Mom noticed, and followed her eyes. "Is that him?" she asked.

Linka nodded. "Yeah. That's him." There was a hazy, dreamy quality to her voice.

Mom squinted her eyes, and nodded appreciatively. "He's a handsome boy." She glanced at Linka. "He's very lucky."

Linka blushed. "I guess," she said. She grabbed her backpack and her violin case and got out. "Have a good day, sweetie, I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." Linka closed the door and went around the front of the GMC, rushing across the street ahead of a Cadillac. Kyle saw her and nodded, a goofy little grin touching his lips.

She smiled back.

"Hey," he said when she walked up.

"Hey," she replied, and they started walking lazily toward the front of the building.

"Uh...how was your weekend?" he asked awkwardly. He was really the cutest thing.

Linka nodded. "It was good." She glanced at him. "I went dress shopping."

"Yeah?" he asked. "I bet it looks really nice."

She shrugged. "It's okay."

"I...I can't wait to see it," he said, and Linka giggled.

"Do anything else?" he asked.

"Well, I..." she started, but trailed off. She _was_ going to tell him about meeting Lincoln, but that meant she would have to tell him that she was adopted, and is that really something you tell someone, like, right off the bat? She didn't want to sound like one of those people who mentioned that they were vegan as soon as they met you. Plus...what if he thought differently of her?

She thought for a moment. Oh, well, if he did he did; it's who she was and she wasn't ashamed. And if it was a problem, best to know now. "I, uh, I found out last week that I'm adopted."

Kyle blinked. "Oh...uh...I'm...I'm sorry?"

"Don't be," she replied. "I'm okay with it."

"Good," he smiled.

"I also found out I have a twin brother, and I got to meet him on Friday." Her voice took on an excited hilt.

"That's really cool," Kyle said. "He...he was adopted by a different family?"

"Yeah," Linka said. "I guess someone messed up the paperwork. My parents wanted him too, and his parents wanted me."

Kyle laughed. "That's crazy. You guys had two families fighting over you. Is he, you know, a cool guy?"

Linka nodded. "He's great."

"That's really nice," Kyle said. "I have an older brother, but he mainly calls me a dweeb and gives me Indian burns."

Linka laughed. "That's an older brother's job, though, right?"

Kyle shrugged. "I guess. If so, he's one of the best in the business."

"I'm really happy to have him," she said. "I've always wanted a brother or a sister. To be honest, I wanted an older sister more, but he's awesome. He's spending the weekend at my house, maybe you can meet him."

"Sure," Kyle said, "that'd be cool. We can, like, go to the park or something. Should I, like...?" he trailed off and rubbed the back of his neck.

Linka tilted her head. "What?"

Kyle shrugged. "I don't know, I was thinking, like, you know...it could be a date and I could bring someone for him." His face was beet red. "I have a cousin."

Linka giggled. "No, he has a girlfriend."

"Oh."

"But...I kind of like the idea of it being like a date."

Kyle beamed. "Me too."


	18. Weekend at Linka's Part 1

On Friday afternoon, Lincoln got home from school and then went into the kitchen, where he grabbed an apple from a basket on the counter. Lucy, Lola, and Lana came in behind him, all three converging on the fridge. It was a daily tradition in the Loud house: As soon as the kids got home from school, they went directly to the fridge or the pantry for a snack. Once upon a time, this led to minor scuffles as each one vied to be first. Lately, however, the process had become more subdued. Lola stood in front of the fridge and asked each of her sisters if they saw something they liked. When they replied that they did and pointed out what they wanted, she handed it to them, and then took a container of apple sauce for herself.

Since Saturday, Lola had been making an effort to be less...Lola-like. She and Lana were getting along better, and Lola's famous barded tongue cracked only infrequently. Lincoln was proud of her.

Closing the fridge, she walked over to the drawer and took out a spoon. She peeled the lid off, and Lincoln reached out to take it since he was closer to the trash can. "Thank you," she said and gave it to him.

They stood side-by-side and ate their snack in silence. "It's going to be weird not having you here for the weekend," she commented as she scraped the last of the apple sauce from the cup with her spoon.

"It's going to be weird not being here," he said. Clyde had come over for a sleepover before, but Lincoln had never gone to his – or anyone else's – house. The prospect of spending an entire weekend away from home was kind of intimidating, but he was making an effort not to sweat it. Ronnie Anne was right, he _did_ worry too much.

Lola went to the trash can and threw the container away. "We're going to miss you," she said, and surprised him by hugging his leg. He grinned and put his arm around her shoulder. "I'm going to miss you too. I'll be back Sunday night."

She looked up at him. "Then she's coming here next weekend?"

Lincoln shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. We really haven't gotten that far yet."

In his room, he glanced around, his hands on his hips. Was he forgetting anything? He packed his bag the night before and left it by the foot of his bed, so obviously he still needed to grab his phone, his charger, and the new Ace Savvy comic he picked up the other day but hadn't gotten around to reading. Should he bring his game system? Sure, why not? He didn't know if Linka liked video games, but they could try.

He disconnected it from the TV and shoved it into his backpack along with his phone charger and a couple of games. He rolled up the comic and stuck it into the mesh pocket on the side. He carried his bag and his backpack to the living room and sat them by the door. Uh...probably shouldn't leave the backpack here. Something might happen to it.

Instead, he carried it over to the couch and dropped down next to Lucy, who was watching TV: On the screen, a horrible looking man with a sheet of metal covering part of his head flipped someone off. "Lick my plate, you dog dick!"

Lincoln gulped. "Lucy...what's this?"

"The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2."

He rolled his eyes. "This stuff again?"

"Yes," Lucy confirmed.

Whatever. She liked what she liked. What could you do? His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to find a text from Linka. "We'll be there in twenty." He texted back then put the phone into his pocket.

"It's gonna suck not having you here this weekend," Lucy said. "I won't have anyone to read my poems to."

The vague, plaintive quality of her voice broke Lincoln's heart. "Wait until I come back, and I'll listen to all the poems you want to read me."

She looked at him. "Even the extra morbid stuff?"

He nodded. "In fact, why don't you write some new stuff this weekend? Make it as bloody and gory as possible and see how much you can gross me out."

Lucy smiled. "That sounds like fun."

Twenty-five minutes later, Lincoln's parents and all ten of his sisters gathered by the front door to see him off: Each one gave him a big hug and told him to have a good weekend. Mom and Dad walked him to the curb, where the Randalls' BMW idled. Todd Randall rolled down the window and stuck his head out. He was wearing a suit and tie and sunglasses. "Afternoon Lynn, Rita."

"How are you, Todd?" Dad asked and they shook.

Todd shrugged. "I have an eleven-year-old daughter who's growing up so fast I can't keep up with her. You tell me."

Dad laughed. "Oh, I've been there, trust me."

Lincoln spotted Linka in the back. She smiled happily and waved. He waved back. Mom hugged him from behind and kissed him on the top of his head. "Have fun. And be good for Mr. and Mrs. Randall."

"I will."

While Mom walked around the car to talk to Karen, Lincoln opened the back door and slipped in, sitting his bags on the floor between him and Linka.

"Hi, Lincoln!" Linka said.

"Hi," he said. She leaned over and they hugged.

"This is going to be _such_ a cool weekend," she prattled, "we can hang out and watch movies and talk and all kinds of stuff."

What nerves he may have had melted when he saw that she was just as excited as he was. "That sounds like fun," he said. "I don't know if you like video games, but I brought my system."

"I don't really play video games," she said, "but I'll try. You'll probably beat me, though."

"I'll go easy," he said, "since you're an amateur."

Her mouth dropped open. "You _better_ not. I'd rather you whip my butt then go easy."

Lincoln shrugged. "Alright."

After Lincoln and Linka's parents said their goodbyes and they got underway, Todd glanced into the rearview mirror. "So, Lincoln, what kinds of things do you like to do?"

"Uh...I like playing video games, and riding bikes...lots of stuff."

"Then you're like to like the surprise we have planned for you and Linka."

Linka's eyes lit up. "Surprise? What is it?"

Her father laughed. "If we told you it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" He and Linka's mother glanced at each other and shared a smile.

"How long do we have to wait?" Linka asked excitedly.

Her father tilted his head in a contemplative gesture. "Not long. We're going to stop by the house so Lincoln can get settled, then we're going."

Linka's brow furrowed and she cocked her head to one side. "Hmmm...what could it be?" she asked. "It has to do with games and or bikes." She looked at Lincoln. "What do _you_ think it is?"

"Uh, I don't know," Lincoln said, and wracked his brain. "A game where you ride a bike?"

Linka giggled. "Maybe. Or a bike that you ride but it's also a game." She stopped. "Okay, that doesn't make sense."

Lincoln laughed. "Like a bike you plug into the game?"

"I don't know much about video games," she said, "so don't make fun of me." She nudged his arm.

For a while they drove in silence, the suburban scenery flashing by on either side of the interstate: Houses, cul-de-sacs, shopping centers bordered by vast parking lots, billboards for bail bonds men, fly-by-night lawyers, and fast food restaurants. "Wanna play a game?" Linka asked, startling Lincoln from his reprieve.

"Sure," he said, "just as long as it's not auto attack."

Linka's brow scrunched. "What's that?"

"It's a game my sister Lynn likes to play. Every time she sees a car she punches me in the arm."

Linka's father chuckled and her mother glanced over her shoulder. "That doesn't seem fair," she said. "Do you punch her back?"

"Uh, sometimes."

"I take it she's your older sister?" Linka's mother asked.

"Yeah. She's thirteen. She's a jock. Plays sports and stuff."

Karen nodded. "My brother was like that growing up. He was really tall, and he would walk around the house bopping everyone on the top of the head." She laughed. "Me, my sister, my mother, my father."

"He's _very_ tall," Linka's father said.

"He played basketball," Karen said. "And it didn't take very much effort for him to dunk the ball into the net. Whenever we see him for Thanksgiving or Christmas, he still bops me on the top of the head. He's extremely annoying."

"I guess older siblings are supposed to be," Lincoln said.

"Younger siblings too," Linka's mother said. "My sister is five years younger and she was a brat."

Her husband glanced at her. "Being in the middle, you were annoying _and_ a brat." She laughed and slapped his arm. "You and your daughter," he said.

Lincoln glanced out the window as a man on a motorcycle passed. "Daddy?" Linka asked. "Is a motorcycle technically a car?"

Her father glanced up and bobbed his head from side-to-side. "Not really, but I suppose if you stretch the definition of 'car' to include all motorized transport, you could get away with it."

Linka grinned. "Great." She punched Lincoln in the arm, and he jerked.

"Hey!" he laughed.

Linka's father glanced at his wife. "I'd like to see you and her go at it. I give it two rounds before you've pulverized each other."

"Only two?" she asked. "Oh, ye of little faith. I think we could go at least four. Right, Linka?"

"Look!" Linka cried, ignoring her. "A Chevy!" She punched Lincoln's arm again, and laughed.

Lincoln rubbed his arm and gave her a sidelong glance, his lips arranged in a devilish smile. She jutted her chin out. "You're not going to hit a girl, are you?"

He shook his head. "No," he said, "I wouldn't do that."

"Good. Because I'm a delicate flower."

Her father burst out laughing, and Linka whipped her head around. "I am!"

Seizing the opportunity, Lincoln stuck his index finger into his mouth, got it nice and wet, and then plunged it into her ear. She jumped, squealed, and pulled away, throwing her hands up. "Oh gross!" She retaliated by smacking Lincoln's arm, her mouth in a lipless smile.

Lincoln laughed. "You hit like a dump truck." His arm was red and sore. "What was that about being a delicate flower?"

She grinned smugly.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a driveway before a two-story brick house with ivy growing along the side. Lincoln's eyes widened. It was beautiful. Not much bigger than his house by the looks of it, but he had thirteen people in his family, the Randalls had three. "Home sweet home," Linka's father said and killed the engine.

"Come on," Linka said, throwing her door open, "I'll show you my room." She bounded out and stood impatiently as Lincoln grabbed his things, got out, and walked around the back of the car. She grinned and grabbed him by the wrist, and he allowed himself to be dragged to the front door. "Your room's next to mine," she said, and threw a glance over her shoulder. She looked at him with mischievous eyes. "I see a BMW." She cocked her fist back and Lincoln squeezed his eyes closed.

The blow didn't come. "I won't hit you again," she said.

"Whew."

She punched him and he cried out. "I lied."

"So you cheat _and_ lie," Lincoln said, rubbing his arm. "Good to know."

Linka's parents came up and unlocked the door. A brief set of steps lead into the spacious living room. The carpet was a light crème color, and the walls were a summery beige. The sofa was black leather, and a skylight let in the weening rays of the autumn sun. "Wow," Lincoln said, "it's really nice."

"Your room's over here," Linka said, leading Lincoln through the living room and into a hall. When he saw where he would be sleeping for the next two nights, his jaw dropped. It wasn't overly _fancy_ , just your typical barebones guest room with a bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser, but it was _big,_ much bigger than his room at home. Heck, much bigger than anyone's room at home, except maybe Mom and Dad's, but some of their space was devoted to the master bathroom while this was _all_ bedroom. For a moment he simply stood in the threshold and looked around, his eyes wide.

"Do you like it?" Linka asked nervously.

"It's _really_ big," he said. "You should see my room at home. It's a closet."

Linka rolled her eyes. "I don't think it's _that_ small."

"No, literally, it's a closet. Or was."

Linka's brow furrowed. "Really?"

He shrugged. "I mean, it's a big closet and it fits me and all my stuff, but this..." he looked around again. "Wow."

"Put your stuff on the bed and come on."

After setting his bags on the neatly made bed, Lincoln followed Linka into her room. It was slightly smaller than the one he would be staying in, but still mind-bogglingly big. And well-kept. His room at home was usually messy, as were his sisters', but Linka's was immaculate: Her bed was made, the things on top of her dresser were neatly organized, and the floor was free of obstructions and even the tiniest bit of litter or dirt.

Linka climbed onto her bed, and Lincoln turned to see her rubbing the flank of a large gray cat: It went to bite her hand, then, sensing Lincoln, it turned to him and froze. It looked at Linka, then him, then Linka again. "That's my twin brother," Linka explained. "Remember? I told you about him. His name is Lincoln." She looked at Lincoln. "We look so much alike it's messing with his head." She giggled, then, realizing she hadn't properly introduced them, she said, "This is my kitty, Hawthorne, like the writer"

"Hi," Lincoln said. "Uh...does he bite?"

"Only if you mess with his stomach or his big kitty hips." She plunged her hand into the cat's soft side, and it meowed dangerously. "I'm the only person in the world who can touch his sides without getting bitten...I get two warnings before he strikes. You wanna pet him?"

"Sure."

Lincoln came over to the bed and sat down, moving cautiously as the cat eyed him. "Hey, Hawthorne," he said, and slowly reached out. The cat's eyes followed the movement. Lincoln scratched between Hawthorne's ears, and the cat, hitherto tensed, relaxed.

Linka looked up at her brother and smiled. "He likes you!"

"That's a relief," Lincoln grinned. "It'd be a long weekend if he didn't." He continued rubbing the cat's head while Linka stroked his back.

"He has a bad reputation, but he's a good kitty," she said, and leaned in. "Aren't you, Hawthorne?" she cooed. She gasped and whipped her head up. "Hey, do you want to hear something?"

"Sure," Lincoln grinned. "What?"

Without answering, Linka got up, knelt beside the bed, and reached under it, bringing out a black case. She sat on the bed with it across her lap and opened it. Lincoln craned his neck to see, but she leaned forward and spoiled his vision. When he saw what it was, he smiled. "This is my violin," she explained, holding it in one hand and a long bow in the other. "Do you want to hear a song?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said.

She pinched the end of the violin between her chin and shoulder and raised the bow, but her mother's voice stopped her. "Linka, honey, we don't have time for that right now."

Linka looked up, her brow crinkling in confusion, then a sunny smile spread across her face. "Oh, right, our surprise!"

She put the bow and violin back into the case and snapped it closed. She then sat it aside and got up. "Come on, Linc!"

Outside, night had fallen and a cold wind sprang up. Lincoln and Linka sat in the back of the BMW, Lincoln staring out the window at the unfamiliar scenery. He saw lots of big houses surrounded by brick walls with iron gates, at least one literal mansion (he thought it was a hospital or something at first, but Linka's father confirmed that it was, indeed, someone's house), and a stretch limousine idling at a red light.

"I wonder what our surprise is," Linka said.

"I know what it is," Lincoln said.

She looked at him. "What?"

He stuck his finger in his mouth, and she drew away. "No!" she laughed. "Not that again!"

He stuck his other finger in his mouth. "Double wet willy."

"Please! No!"

When they pulled into a parking lot five minutes later, Linka's eyes lit up. "Oh, wow, Chuck E. Cheese's! I haven't been here in _years!_ "

They parked in a spot facing the front of the building. Through a big window, Lincoln could see a row of skee ball tables and a few arcade games. The place was packed with kids.

"I haven't been here in a while either," he said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. How long? He thought it was Clyde's eighth birthday, but he couldn't be sure.

They all got out and went inside, the smell of pizza and the sounds of children's laughter and electronic game noises washing over them. Lincoln's jaw dropped as he scanned the vast cornucopia laid out before him. There were games as far as the eye could see, some he was familiar with from the arcade back in Royal Woods, and many that he was not. It was overwhelming, intimidating...and beautiful.

Next to him, Linka trembled with excitement, her eyes darting around the room. "What do you wanna do first?" she asked.

"I-I don't know," he said, and laughed. "There's so much."

A waitress came over and led them to a booth along the far wall: Lincoln and Linka sat on one side of the table while her parents sat on the other. "It's lively," her father said, talking loudly to be heard over the din.

"Unlike those stuffy functions you always drag us to," her mother replied.

Todd shrugged. "I'm not too keen on them either." He looked at Lincoln and Linka. "What sounds good, kids?"

Linka turned to Lincoln. "Do you like pepperoni pizza?" she asked.

"No, I hate it," he said, "I'd rather broccoli and Brussel sprout pizza." She pursed her lips and he laughed. "Of course I do."

She smiled and turned to her father. "Pepperoni pizza!"

"Pepperoni pizza it is."

A waitress came by and took their order. In a few minutes she returned with a soda for each of them and enough tokens to sink a battleship. "Alright," Linka's mother said, "you kids be back here in...twenty minutes."

"Alright!" Linka said, and slid out of the booth. Lincoln followed. She handed him a bunch of tokens and kept some for herself; he shoved them into his pocket. "What should we do, Linc?"

Lincoln looked around. "Uh..." his eyes landed on a Dance Party platform in a corner. "That!" He pointed, and Linka followed his finger with her eyes.

"Oh, that looks fun," she said. She grabbed his wrist and dragged him over. "I'm not a very good dancer," she said, "but I'll give it a try."

When the kids using it were finished, he stepped onto one side of the platform and she stepped onto the other. He took a few tokens out and slipped them into the coin slot. The game started, and the arrows lit up. "Do you know how to do it?" he asked.

"It looks easy enough," she said.

At the table, Todd and Karen both watched as Lincoln and Linka jumped, spun, and stomped, both laughing as they did so. "I'm glad we told her," Karen said. "Look how much fun she's having."

"I don't think she's ever been this happy," Todd agreed. He turned away and took a sip of his soda. Karen turned too and sighed. "Do you think we've been stifling her? Keeping her from being a kid"

Todd thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so. She just doesn't have anyone to be a kid with. You know she doesn't have many friends."

"But now she has Lincoln," Karen said.

Todd nodded. "Now she has Lincoln."

"What next?" Linka asked. Her face was red and she was out of breath. For not being a very good dancer, she came close to beating him. He looked around, and caught sight of a ring toss game manned by a bored looking waiter...or whatever...dude was a Chuck E. Cheese's employee. "Let's try that."

"Okay!"

They went over, and Lincoln bought a turn, the man handing him three rings. The object of the game was to get the rings around a post. Lincoln handed Linka one of the rings and watched as she flicked her wrist and tossed it; the ring bounced off the post and fell to the floor. Without a word, he handed her another, and she missed again.

"Alright," he said, " _my_ turn."

He assumed a wide-footed stance, leaned forward, and rolled his neck. Linka crossed her arms. "You're going to miss."

"No, I'm not," he said.

He flicked his wrist.

"Miss!"

He jerked, and the ring bounced off the post. He whipped his head toward Linka, and she grinned smugly. "Told you."

Shaking his head, Lincoln handed the man more tokens for another three rings. "For that, you don't get to play."

"'For that you don't get to play,'" she mocked.

He tossed the first ring and missed. Alright. Two more. He tossed the second...and missed. Linka giggled, and his face flushed. Okay, one left. He could feel her eyes on him, and he turned. "You're going to miss," she said.

He tossed the third and final ring...and missed.

Linka laughed. "You suck!"

Lincoln bowed his head.

"Your sister's right, kid," the man said, "you're awful...but I'll take pity on you." He took a purple stuffed dog from under the counter and handed it to him.

"Uh...thanks," Lincoln said, studying the dog. It had a heart for a nose and a rainbow on his stomach.

"Aw," Linka said, "he's cute."

Lincoln handed it to her. "Here."

She looked up at him. "Take him," Lincoln said, "I was going to give you whatever I won anyway."

Linka's eyes brimmed with love, and she threw her arms around his neck. "You're a great brother," she said.

Lincoln smiled and hugged her back. They stood that way for a moment before she tensed in his arms and gasped. "What?" he asked.

" _Look!"_

He let her go and turned, seeing a door over which blinked a sign. LASER TAG.

"Laser tag?" he asked.

"Yeah!" She fisted her hands in excitement. "It's like tag...but with _lasers_."

"Do you wanna play?"

She started to reply, then stopped, her eyes widening. Lincoln had ten sisters, and he knew that look well: It meant she had an idea. "I have a _brilliant_ idea," she said.

"Uh-oh. I've heard _that_ one before."

"Not from me you haven't. Come on!" She grabbed his hand and dragged him through a mass of kids and their longsuffering parents to the table, where her father and mother were talking. When they got there, she let go of his hand, clasped her hands behind her back, and rocked back and forth on her heels. "Mom, Dad?"

They both looked up at them.

"We have a question."

We?

"Oh?" Linka's father asked. "And what's that?"

"Will you play laser tag with us? _Please?_ "

Linka's parents looked at each other. "Laser tag?" her father asked. "Hmmm. That sounds like fun. Our food will be here any..."

As if on cue, a waitress came over with a big pepperoni pizza and sat it on a rack in the middle of the table.

Linka slid into the booth and Lincoln sat next to her. Her father put a slice on a plate for Lincoln then a slice on a plate for Linka. Lincoln took his plate with a "Thank you" and dug in.

"That's a pretty dog," Linka's mother said.

"Thank you," Linka said. "Lincoln won it for me."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Well...he didn't actually _win_ it, they gave it to him out of pity because he was so bad at the ring toss game." She glanced at him then back to her mother. "But he still gave it to me and that's what counts."

Linka's mother nodded. "That's right. He's a good brother."

Lincoln blushed.

"I said the same thing," Linka said and took a bite of her pizza.

For a while they ate in silence. When they were done, Linka's father sat back and sighed. "I'm stuffed."

"I hope you left room for laser tag," Linka said.

"I have a _little_ bit of room left."

"Good," Linka said. "We can do boys against girls." She nudged Lincoln's arm. "You're dead meat."

"You think?" Lincoln asked.

"Yep!"

The door opened onto a dark room light by the periodic and disorienting flash of a strobe light. Linka's father paid a man in a red Chuck E. Cheese's shirt, who then helped them put on plastic chestpieces with arm straps and a red light in the center. The point of the game was simple: Aim at the light and fire.

"See you on the battlefield," Linka said.

"Not if I see you first," Lincoln said.

Linka and her mother went in one direction while Lincoln and her father went in another. The room was filled with maze-like walls. "Alright, Lincoln," Linka's father said, "it's you and me against those two she-devils. Don't let their appearance fool you: In each lurks the heart of a monster."

"Not for long," Lincoln said, pretending to cock his gun.

Linka's father laughed. "That's the spirit."

A buzzer sounded, and Lincoln ducked into the room low and fast, flattening himself against a wall and peeking around the corner. It was just like he was in a video game, or an action movie, and adrenaline coursed through his system. He didn't see Linka or her mother.

"See anything?" Linka's father asked. He was crouched beside him.

"No," Lincoln said. Just then, someone darted from the shadows, the red light on their chest glowing like an evil eye. He inferred from the height that it was Linka's mother. He ducked around the wall, dropped to one knee, and brought the gun up. He fired, but missed.

"Who was that?" Linka's father asked.

"I think it was your wife."

"Did you get her?"

"No."

"Shoot."

Lincoln got to his feet and ran forward, throwing himself against another wall. His heart was pounding and sweat stood on his brow. He peeked around the corner, and saw Linka hurrying along in a crouch. He jumped out and lifted the gun, but she saw him, fired, and missed, then disappeared. He pushed away from the wall and gave chase. _Come on, Linka, I have..._

His feet tangled and he went down hard, the air rushing out of his lungs. Linka's father was suddenly next to him. "You alright, son?" he asked.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, and got to his knees. That wasn't entirely true. He banged his elbow against the floor and it hurt. He rubbed it. "I just..."

Without warning, Linka jumped out in front of him, her eyes blazing with triumph and the corners of her mouth turned up in a wicked smile. "No mercy!" she cried as she brought the gun up. She fired, and Lincoln's red light turned to cold, dead blue.

He bowed his head. Damn.

"Linka," her father said sternly, "executing wounded prisoners is against the Geneva Convention, you know."

"That doesn't extend to laser tag, Daddy."

"Yes it does."

Linka stared at him blankly for a moment, then pressed the gun against his chestpiece and pulled the trigger. His light went just as blue as Lincoln's. He looked down at it, and then back to his daughter.

Just then, Linka's mother stumbled out from behind a wall. "Linka! Where –?" she turned and saw them. "There you are. Did we win?"

"Yep," Linka said, then her face darkened. "No thanks to you." She lifted the gun.

"Stop!" her mother cried. "I'm on your team!"

Linka pulled the trigger, and her mother's light went blue. Linka laughed.

"You're a monster," her father said.

Lincoln got to his feet and rubbed his elbow. "Now that you've killed your entire family, how do you feel?"

She held her gun in the air. "Invincible!"


	19. Weekend at Linka's Part 2

Saturday morning, Lincoln woke at half past six to pee, and for a moment he had no idea where he was. He was on his side and facing a wall that was totally unfamiliar. Then it came back to him. He was in the guest room at Linka's house. He turned over, and the bed was empty. After everyone went to bed, Linka slipped in and they hung out for a while, talking and reading comic books. When they started getting drowsy, they stretched out side-by-side and lay together staring at the ceiling. At one point, her hand crept into his. "I'm so happy to have a brother," she said sleepily. "You're really cool."

"You're cool too," Lincoln smiled.

They fell asleep holding hands, and that's the last thing Lincoln remembered.

He got up, went to the bathroom, then came back and snuggled under the covers. It was strange how big the bed was. He could roll over three or four times to his left and still be on it: He could barely get a single roll in on his bed at home. It was really comfy, too. He dozed off and slept for another hour before a knock at the door woke him. "Yeah?" he called out.

Linka poked her head in. "Hey...are you awake?"

"Now I am," Lincoln said.

"Oh," she winced, "sorry."

"I was already kind of up," he said and sat up.

"Mom's making breakfast. You like eggs and stuff?"

"Sure."

In the kitchen, Linka's mother stood at the stove and her father sat at the table with the morning paper open before him. He looked up when Lincoln and Linka came in. "Ah, there they are. The gruesome twosome."

"Morning, Daddy!"

"Morning, Linka. Morning, Lincoln."

"Good morning, Mr. Randall," Lincoln sat, and sat. Linka sat between him and her father.

"How do you like that bed?" Linka's father asked.

"It's really nice," Lincoln answered truthfully. "It's really comfortable."

"Pillowtop mattress," he said, scanning the day's headlines. "We have the same thing in our room. Sometimes getting up is extremely difficult."

"That's called aging, dear," Linka's mother said over her shoulder.

"That too."

When she was done, Linka's mother filled four plates with bacon, eggs, toast, and sausage. Lincoln and Linka each got a chocolate chip pancake on the side. "Thanks, Mom!" Linka said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Randall," Lincoln said, looking at his plate. It was a lot of food. He would eat all of it, though, because not doing so would be impolite. He just hoped he survived.

"You kids have anything in mind for the day?" Linka's mother asked.

"I was hoping we could walk over to the park later on," Linka said. Last night she mentioned something about going to the park and meeting up with a boy she knew from school. She didn't say too much, but Lincoln inferred from the hazy look in her eyes that she liked him; he imagined he looked the same way when he talked about Ronnie Anne.

The park, she said, was less than a mile from the house and had a lot of trails. It was sunny out, so a walk in the park would be cool, even if he _was_ probably going to wind up being the third wheel on a date.

"That sounds nice," Linka's mother said. "It's supposed to rain later, but not until dinnertime, I think."

"We won't be that late," Linka said.

After breakfast (Lincoln survived, but he was pretty sure he gained three pant sizes) Linka led him to her room and took out her violin. She knelt on the bed and sat back on her knees as she unclasped the case. "I've been taking lessons for, like, two years, and my tutor – who's really mean and never says anything nice to anybody – says I'm getting better. Do you like classical music?"

"Yeah, kind of," Lincoln said, "my sister Lisa listens to it while she does whatever it is she does in her lab."

"She's the genius, right?"

"Yeah."

Linka giggled. "That's cool your sister's a prodigy. I mean, that's not something you come across every day."

Lincoln shrugged. She was right, though by now he had normalized it to the point where when he met other four-year-olds, he was always kind of shocked that they didn't solve mathematical equations for fun and had a vocabulary of less than a billion words. "It's dangerous, too. She's always causing explosions and stuff."

"They can't be _that_ bad if your parents still let her do it," Linka said, tucking the violin between her chin and shoulder. "What song do you want to hear?"

Lincoln thought for a moment. He didn't know many classical songs by name. He knew _Ode to Joy_ and Beethoven's Fifth Symphony...but that was pretty much it. If he thought _really_ hard, he might be able to come up with another one. Covering, he said, "I don't know, surprise me."

"Okay," she said, her brow furrowing in concentration, then she smiled. "I have one." She held the bow against the strings, nodded to herself, and then drew it slowly across, her fingers working along the fingerboard: A high, wavering sound issued forth like a mournful cry. Goosebumps raked the back of Lincoln's neck.

Linka swept the bow back and forth in slow, steady strokes. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was a straight, expressionless line. The music stirred something in Lincoln's soul, and he found himself leaning intently forward. She swayed slightly as she played, her face serene and her eyelids fluttering like a sleeper in the midst of the REM cycle.

Lincoln watched rapt as she moved through the song, a lump of emotion forming in his throat. The melody was haunting.

When she reached the end, she stopped, her eyes opening and a smile crossing her face. "How was that?" she asked.

Lincoln opened his mouth to speak, but he was speechless. "I-It was beautiful," he said. "What was it?"

" _Nearer, My God, To Thee._ Have you ever seen the movie _Titanic_?"

Lincoln shook his head. "What's it about?"

"It's about a ship that hits an iceberg and sinks," she said. "It's based on a true story. When the ship was sinking the band played, and that was the last song they did before the end."

"Wow," Lincoln said.

Linka nodded. "I always thought it was admirable, you know, playing music right up to the very end to calm the passengers. I'd like to think I'd act with the same grace and dignity in their situation...but I'd probably chicken out and get in a lifeboat." Here she hung her head in shame, and Lincoln's heart broke. He put his hand on her shoulder.

"I would too, if that makes you feel any better."

She giggled and looked up. "We're both cowards."

"We'd survive, though."

Linka's phone buzzed on her nightstand, and she scooped it up. She scanned the screen, and typed. "That's Kyle," she said, and smiled. "He's on his way to the park now." She put the phone away and got up. "I have to get dressed." She picked the phone back up. "I wonder if it's warm. It looks warm."

After a minute, she nodded and sat the phone down again. "Okay." She looked at him. "Shoo."

While Linka changed, Lincoln went into the guest room and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, next he put on socks and finally his shoes. Well... _he_ was ready. Let's see how long it takes Linka.

Fifteen minutes later, he went out into the living room and sat on the sofa. Linka's parents were sitting at the opposite end and watching some kind of documentary or something. Linka's father turned to him, and seemed surprised to see him. "Where's Linka?" he asked.

"Getting ready," he said, "we're about to go to the park...if that's okay with you."

"I'm fine with it," he said. "There are worse places to go than to the park."

Cool. Lincoln crossed his legs and his arms and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"She sure is taking her time," her mother said.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, she came into the living room wearing a simple white blouse and a blue skirt. "Took you long enough," her father said, "poor Lincoln's aged ten years sitting there."

"Sorry," she said, then to Lincoln: "You ready?"

"Yep," he said, and got up.

"How long do you expect to be gone?" her mother asked.

Linka shrugged. "I don't know. An hour or two."

Her mother picked up her phone and looked at it. "Alright, it's ten. Be back here no later than noon, okay?"

"Okay, Mom." She kissed her father on the cheek and then her mother. Outside, the day was sunny and warm, a light breeze blowing from the west and rustling the trees, knocking the loosest ones from their branches. They crossed the road and started up a street that rose past big, comfortable houses, Lincoln letting Linka lead the way.

"You're going to like the park," she said, brushing her hair behind her ear, "it's nice. There's a stream and a pond and all sorts of stuff."

"It _sounds_ nice."

"I go there sometimes and just walk around."

At the top of the hill, they turned left onto a street flanked on one side by a dense stand of pine trees and on the other by a strip of grass. Looking in that direction, Lincoln had a sweeping view of the neighborhood below.

"This Kyle guy," he said, "you like him, don't you?"

Linka bowed her head and nodded, a light red blush spreading across her cheeks. She looked up at him, a faraway look in her eyes. "Yeah, I do."

"Is he alright? I'd hate to have to kick his ass for being a jerk to my sister."

Linka giggled. "No, he's great. I mean, as far as I know. I guess you really never know about people, right?"

Lincoln shrugged. "True. Like our parents. Our _real_ parents."

"What about them?" Linka asked.

"Your parents never told you anything about them?"

Linka shook her head; she had been so caught up in finding out she was adopted and that she had a brother (plus Kyle...) that she'd never even thought to ask about her birth parents.

Sighing, Lincoln wondered if he should tell her what his parents had told him. She was watching him expectantly, so he pretty much _had_ to. "My parents said our mom had mental problems and she was abusive."

"Abusive?" Linka asked, something like horror creeping into her voice.

Lincoln nodded. "I had to go to the hospital a couple times. They never said anything about you, so I don't know if you did too."

"Oh, my God," Linka said breathlessly, her step faltering.

"And our father shot a cop."

Linka's head whipped around. _"He did what?"_

"Yeah. The cop survived, though."

Linka's face, so recently a lovely shade of red, was pale now, and he eyes were haunted. She turned away and stared dazedly into space. "That's terrible," she muttered.

The air between them was tense, and Lincoln regretted bringing it up. "It all worked out in the end, though. We both wound up with cool families."

She ran her hand through her hair. "Yeah," she said, "but...wow."

They were in the park now. Lincoln saw a tennis court, a public pool (drained and closed), gazebos, and a playground. Linka shook her head and looked up. "Do you –?" she trailed off, her body tensing. Lincoln followed her line of sight, and saw a boy in a white polo shirt and khaki pants standing by a tree.

"Oh, that's _him_ ," she said excitedly. "Isn't he dreamy?"

"Uh...yeah, totally," Lincoln said.

Kyle looked up, saw them, and waved. Linka took off, leaving Lincoln in her dust. Okay...she had it worse for dude than he did for Ronnie Anne.

"Hey," Kyle said to Linka, "how're you doing?"

"I'm good," she said, "you?"

He nodded. "Better now."

She giggled. "This is my brother Lincoln," she said, grabbing Lincoln by the arm and pulling him close.

"Hey, how's it going? I'm Kyle."

"Nice to meet you," Lincoln said and they shook.

Kyle looked from Lincoln to Linka, a little grin playing at the corner of his lips. "That's wild, you guys really _are_ identical." He held up his hand. "No offense, dude, but, uh, your sister...you know...wears it better."

Linka blushed.

"None taken," Lincoln said.

"So," Kyle said, "you guys wanna take a walk?"

"Sure," Linka said.

As Lincoln suspected, he was the third wheel. Not that he really minded; while Linka and Kyle walked and talked, Lincoln gave them space enjoyed the scenery. The park back home was a dump compared to this one. The river was the best part: The water chugged over moss covered rocks like something from a calendar. A wooden footbridge carried the path across, and while Linka and Kyle stood on one side and took in the view (hand-in-hand, Lincoln noticed), he walked over to the bank, grabbed a handful of stones, and then came back and tried to skip them...it didn't go so well. _Guess it only works on calm, flat surfaces_. At one point, his phone vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to find a text from Ronnie Anne. "Having fun?"

"I think I'm on my sister's first date," he replied.

A few minutes later she came back with: "I knew I'd lose you to her."

"Hahaha. Very funny. I'm the third wheel."

"Poor lame-o. She can be the third wheel next time."

Yeah, that's probably how it would work out if she spent the weekend at his house.

"Call me?" Ronnie Anne texted.

Lincoln glanced over his shoulder, saw that his sister and her boyfriend were lost in each other's' eyes (at least me and Ronnie Anne aren't all sappy), and walked away, dialing Ronnie Anne's number. She picked up on the second ring. "How's your date going?"

"Good," Lincoln said. The path passed a wide, grassy field, and he saw a bunch of girls playing football, which reminded him of Lynn. "By the looks of it they'll be rounding first base in no time."

"Aw, cute," Ronnie Anne said. "It feels like yesterday that we weren't at first yet."

How long ago _was_ that? Three weeks? It was the day after he found out he was adopted, which seemed like years and years ago. "Yep," he said, "then you grabbed me by the face and jammed your tongue down my throat. In public, no less."

"Eh, what can I say? You have a pretty mouth."

Lincoln laughed deeply. "Yeah, and you have pretty eyes."

Ronnie Anne giggled. "You know, I don't usually like mushy shit...but I'm kind of getting used to it.

"Nothing wrong with being mushy with the girl you lo – like." He blushed. He came _this_ close to saying 'love.' It was _true,_ he _did_ love her, but he didn't know if she was quite ready for that yet.

She didn't seem to notice his almost faux paus. "No, there isn't, I guess. Only you get to see that side of me. And if you so much as breathe _one word_ to anyone else, I'll beat the living shit out of you."

"Ah," Lincoln said, "domestic violence. How romantic."

She didn't reply for a moment. "Hey, I have to go. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Alright."

"I-I love you."

Lincoln heart came to a full stop and his feet froze mid-step. Did she just say what he thought she said?

"You there?" she asked nervously.

"Y-Yeah," he said, "I'm here. I love you too."

He could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke next. "Talk later."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Lincoln hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. It was almost eleven-thirty. He and Linka had to start back soon.

He turned and followed the path back to the bridge. Linka and Kyle were where he had left them, holding hands, leaning against the railing, and talking and laughing. When he walked up, Linka glanced over her shoulder. "Hey, Linc, where'd you go?"

"I was talking to Ronnie Anne on the phone. Hey...it's almost eleven-thirty, your mom said we have to be back by noon."

Linka blinked. "Is it that late already?"

Lincoln nodded.

"Shoot." She turned to Kyle. "We have to go."

"Oh," he said sadly, "well...I'll see you at school?"

Linka nodded. "I'll be there."

Neither Lincoln nor Linka spoke until they were almost to Linka's house. "So," Lincoln said, "did you guys kiss?"

Linka's face turned bright red. "No!"

Lincoln held his hands up. "Sorry. It just looked like it was heading that way."

Linka sighed. "I _wanted_ to kiss him, but I kind of chickened out."

"Why?" Lincoln asked.

"I don't know. It's just...kind of scary, you know?"

Yeah, he did know. If Ronnie Anne hadn't grabbed him by the face and rammed her tongue into his mouth, they probably still wouldn't have kissed. "It _is_ scary, but you know what?"

She glanced at him. "What?"

"He really likes you."

"Yeah, I know. I think."

"I mean he _really_ likes you. Next chance you get, kiss him."

"I don't know," Linka said as she twisted her hair nervously in her hands. "Do you really think I should?"

Lincoln nodded. "Absolutely."

She still didn't look convinced, but Lincoln could see the wheels turning in her mind.

* * *

When Lincoln came through the front door on Sunday evening, all ten of his sisters were there to greet him...in this case 'greeting' being mobbing him the way a bunch of crazed schoolgirls might have mobbed John Lennon or Paul McCartney in 1964: He wasn't one step inside before they were grabbing him and pulling him this way and that, each one talking to be heard over the others.

"We missed you _so_ much, Lincy!" Lola cried, breaking from the pack and throwing her arms around his leg like a puppy excited to see its master at the end of a long day. Lynn shoved Luan away by the face. "Yo, Linc! Glad to have you back!" Lori strained to see over Leni, Luna, and Lucy. She tapped Leni on the shoulder. "There's a spider in your hair." Leni screamed, jumped, and started attacking her own head. When she was out of the way, Lori said, "Oops, I was mistaken."

Leni balled her fists and stomped her foot indignantly. "You did that just so I would move!"

Lucy bumped into Lisa, who stumbled and nearly fell. Lana threw her arms around Lincoln's other leg, and he nearly toppled over. "Whoa!" he cried. "Take it easy!"

Adjusting her glasses, Lisa came forward, but before she could speak, Leni yanked her up and sat her aside. Lisa's face turned red and her teeth bared. "Hi, Lincy!" Leni said.

"Everyone calm down!" Lincoln yelled.

The crowd seemed to regain some of its senses and moved back, Lola and Lana releasing Lincoln's legs. He kicked the door shut behind him and dropped his bags onto the floor. "Now...form a neat single file line...and I will hug you all because I missed you so much."

All of Lincoln's sisters smiled; they missed him too. Never before had Lincoln gone away for the night much less a whole weekend, and not having him around was strange and depressing; when they gathered at the kitchen table, none of them could help glancing longingly at the vacuum where their brother should be. They presently lined up, youngest to oldest, and each gave Lincoln a big hug, which he returned. "Did you have fun?" Luan asked as they embraced.

"Yeah, I did," he said, "but after a while I started getting kind of homesick." He felt kind of guilty saying that because he loved Linka and had a great time hanging out with her over the weekend...but this was home, as loud, cramped, and cluttered as it may be. If only Linka could move in, things would be perfect. He figured she felt the same way about her parents and her home that he felt about his, so _that_ wasn't going to happen, which was kind of sad. She was his sister, and by all rights he should be with her the way he was with his other sisters.

"Well, we kind of got sick of not having you home," Luan said, and rubbed his back.

Luna came next, sweeping him into a bear hug that nearly broke his spine. "Glad to have you back, bro."

"Glad to be back," he moaned.

When it was Leni's turn, she bent down and put her arms around his neck. "It was totes boring without you."

After Leni, Lori came up and hugged him. "We missed you, Lincoln," she said.

"I missed you guys too."

"How was it? Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," he said, and grinned. "We went to Chuck E. Cheese's and played laser tag. Linka killed everyone, even her mom...and they were on the same team."

Lynn snickered. "I like her already."

Mom and Dad came down the stairs then, both of them smiling when they saw him. "Hey, son!" Dad said.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hi, sweetie," Mom said and hugged him just as tight as Luna had. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, I had a good time." He sighed. "I was homesick and wanted to come back, but I also didn't want to leave Linka." In that moment he realized just what it was like to be 'torn.' He had ten sisters here that he loved dearly, and a sister in Detroit that he loved dearly; you could say that half of his heart was here, and half was there.

Mom caressed his face. "I know, honey, I wish you didn't have to. I'm sure she's happy to have you regardless."

He nodded. "Yeah, I think she is. I'm happy to have her too. I never thought I'd want another sister."

In his room, he sat his bags on the bed and unpacked them slowly. Yes, he missed Linka and hated leaving her, but it _was_ good to be home, among his own things. When he was done, he dropped onto the bed and laced his hands behind head. Before he left, he and Linka spent most of the day playing video games. Rather, he spent half of the day teaching her...then half of it getting his butt handed to him on a silver platter. He'd never seen someone go from video game novice to video game master in such a short period of time. They started with Call of Honor 8, playing the multiplayer deathmatch mode. He took it easy on her at first, but when he saw how quickly she was catching on, he started giving it his all, which turned out to not be enough.

"Are you going to come over my house next weekend?" he asked as they played.

"Yeah, if my parents are okay with it," she replied. "I'm, uh...I'm kind of nervous about meeting your sisters. There are so _many_ of them."

Lincoln chuckled. "Yeah, there are a lot, but you shouldn't be nervous. They're really great, and like I said, they want to be your sisters too."

"I'm always kind of shy about meeting new people," she said.

"Well, so am I. I was sweating bullets when I met you and your parents."

"So was I. I guess anxiety runs in the family too."

"You don't have to be too nervous, though, my sisters are awesome. I should say _our_ sisters."

Linka looked at him and smiled. "I can't wait to meet them."

Presently, Lincoln sat up and stretched. It was early (7:51 by the clock on the nightstand), but Linka had him up early to hang out, and he was tired. He'd take a shower, brush his teeth, then go to bed. He got up, grabbed his pajamas and towel, and went out into the hall. Lucy was waiting outside the bathroom door; one thing Lincoln did not miss was there always being a line. He walked up and stood behind her. "Who's in there?" he asked.

"Lynn," Lucy said.

Lincoln rolled his eyes. Great.

As if she had seen him, Lucy said, "Yup. You know how she was all about meatball subs for a while?"

"Yeah." For the longest time Lynn would down one meatball sub after another, which always mystified Lincoln: Those things are packed with calories and stuff that an athlete like Lynn should avoid, and when it came to food, she was usually really careful.

"This weekend it was buffalo wings. She must have had half a dozen orders."

Lincoln whistled.

"And the bathroom hasn't smelled the same since."

Nice.

Lucy turned. "I wrote those poems you asked me to. Do you want to hear them?"

"Yeah, I'll listen to them," Lincoln said, "I just wanna take a shower first."

"Alright."

A few minutes later, the toilet flushed and Lynn came out holding her stomach. The smell trailing behind her was ungodly. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have eaten that celery that came with my hot wings."

Lincoln pinched his nose. "That's not celery."

"It's the hot wings," Lucy said, "If you take a big enough whiff you can smell the buffalo sauce."

Lincoln gagged. You know...he took a shower at Linka's Saturday night, so he didn't really _need_ one.

While Lucy went into the bathroom, her hand waving in front of her face, Lincoln went back to his room and changed into his pjs. When he was done, he went into the hall just as Lucy came out. "I'm ready," he said.

Before he left, he told her to gross him out; now he regretted it. By the time he left, visions of severed limbs, blasted heads, intestines hanging out of gaping stomach wounds, and charred flesh danced through his head. He climbed into bed, but sleep did not come for a long time.


	20. Linka in the Loud House

Tonight was the night, October 21 – the dance was in an hour and Linka was wracked with nerves. She sat in front of her vanity mirror and studied her face; the little curl the hairdresser gave her that afternoon fell across her right eye and she batted it away. Was her lipstick too heavy? It was _really_ red. Her eyeshadow looked nice, at least, not too much and not too little. Was the rouge too much, though? She was fair-skinned, and the touch of pink on her cheeks could very well be overpowering. She did _not_ want to look like a clown.

She drummed her fingers on the edge of the table and examined herself from every angle, even twisting in her seat and looking over her shoulder. With a sigh, she pronounced herself as ready as she would ever be. She got up, crossed to the bed, and picked up the dress, which she had laid neatly out that morning. She studied it for a moment, then slipped out of her uniform and pulled it on. In the full length mirror on the back of the door, she looked better than she feared she would, though she still wasn't entirely sure about the make-up. Oh well. Too late now. She didn't look like a clown, and she supposed that that was all that mattered.

Sitting in front of the vanity again, she picked up the silver tiara and placed it on her head. It was cute, but she felt kind of strange wearing it. Was it too ostentatious? Pretentious?

 _Oh, shut up, it's a dance, you're supposed to wear stuff like that_.

Alright. She picked the white gloves up from the table and slipped them on. They reached three quarters of the way to her elbow, reminding her of all the old Disney characters who wore white gloves. Mickey, Goofy...why did they always wear white gloves? It didn't make much sense. Then again, it didn't make much sense that Goofy could walk and talk like a person but Pluto was a normal dog.

Cartoon logic was really not kind of logic at all, when you get right down to it.

Her phone vibrated on the table, and she picked it up. When she saw Lincoln's name, she smiled. She opened the text.

"Good luck, sis, I love you."

She giggled. _Sis._ She liked that.

"Thank you," she replied, adding a smiley face. Then: "I'm crazy nervous."

"Don't be," Lincoln texted, "you're awesome."

Then:

"Don't forget to kiss him."

Linka laughed. "I'll try not to."

She checked the time and saw that it was almost time to leave. She sighed and tried to ignore the nerves roiling in her stomach. She stood, slipped her phone into her purse, and then crossed to the bed, where she sat and pulled her heels on.

Ready...she was ready...kind of.

She put her purse over her shoulder and opened the door. Her parents were sitting on the couch. They looked up when she came in, her father's eyes widening slightly and her mother's hands flying to her mouth. "Oh," Mom said, "honey...you're so beautiful!"

"T-Thank you," Linka said.

Mom got up and came over, her hands still pressed to her face. "Todd, get the camera!"

Her father got up and went into the bedroom while her mother took Linka's face in her hands. "I _knew_ you'd be gorgeous but oh my God." She pulled Linka into a hug.

"Alright, Mom," Linka laughed, "jeez."

Dad came back with a digital Nikon that Linka only saw on special occasions: Family outings, Christmases, and birthdays. "You look very nice, Linka," he said. "You're a very beautiful young lady and that Kyle boy is extremely lucky."

"Thanks, Daddy," she said, blushing.

Dad lifted the camera and took several photos while Mom looked on, one arm crossed over her chest and the other lifted to her face. Linka noticed tears in her eyes.

When Dad was done, he sat the camera down and hugged Linka. "Have fun tonight."

"I will," Linka said.

He pulled back, and his eyes were misty too. "And if the punch tastes funny, don't drink it."

Linka laughed. "Daddy, I hardly think anyone will spike the punch."

He shrugged. "You never know, honey. When I was a boy I _may_ have done something like that."

Mom nodded. "And Mr. Harrison was so drunk he started dancing to Ace of Base."

Dad laughed richly. "You could say he saw the sign and it opened up his eyes."

They both laughed, and Linka shook her head. "The two of you can be such dorks at times."

"But you love us," Dad said.

Linka grinned. "I do." She hugged her father, and he patted her back.

"You better get going," he said, "or else you'll be late." He stepped back and looked at her proudly. _They grow up so fast,_ he thought for the millionth time since the previous week. It was joyous and sorrowful at the same time. He remembered all the times she crawled into his lap when she was little and fell asleep against his chest, and it occurred to him that those days were over now. She was growing up and was practically a woman. That thought made him so sad he felt like crying, but it made him happy too, because she was lovely and had the rest of her life ahead of her. He was excited to see where she would go and what she would do.

"Alright, honey," Mom said, "come on." She touched Linka's face again and smiled wistfully. Like her husband, she realized that Linka was growing up, and also like her husband, she was both happy and sad at the prospect.

In the car, she glanced at her daughter in the passenger seat, and was overcome with emotion. She looked so much like a woman, and not the girl that she was used to, that it was scary.

They drove in silence. Nervous energy radiated from Linka, and Karen wanted to comfort her, but knew from personal experience that when it comes to boys and romance, one has to _do_ and not _listen_. She had the utmost faith that things would turn out well for Linka, and that she would have a magical evening.

When they reached the school, Karen pulled around the side to the gymnasium. A set of double doors stood open, a sandwich board sign festooned with balloons standing in the middle of the walkway. Boys in suits and girls in dresses streamed in.

Linka's stomach quivered with anxiety and for a moment she seriously considered telling her mother to turn around. _I can't do this._ The thought of seeing Kyle Mountcastle, and of dancing with him, decided her, though.

"Have fun, honey," Mom said.

"I will," Linka replied as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie; so, so much."

Linka smiled and got out into the chilly October night. She crossed around the front of the car and went up the walkway, pausing before entering the gym. The sound of music and the din of chattering voices wafted out. She took a deep breath and let it out evenly. Inside, the lights were low and a band played on a makeshift stage. A long table was set up against one wall. She saw a punch bowl and various plates laden with food. Kids danced energetically in the middle of the room. Steamers and balloons hung from the ceiling.

Kristy Evans spotted her from by the table, her eyes widening. She was wearing a sparkly blue dress that stopped just above her knees. She came over. "Linka? Oh my God, you're so beautiful!"

Linka blushed. She was aware of kids turning to look at her. "Thank you," she said. "You're beautiful too."

"I mean it," Kristy said and took her hand, "you're like a princess or something."

"I feel a little silly, to be honest," Linka said.

"Why? You look amazing!"

Linka blushed even harder. "Thank you." Then, to change the subject: "Where's Jake?"

"Taking a leak or something," Kristy said, "Kyle's here. I saw him...oh, there he is."

Linka turned as Kyle made his way through a crowd of kids. His eyes fell on her, and his jaw dropped: He probably thought she looked stupid.

Someone bumped into him, and he came alive, blinking and swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He came over and stood in front of her, his eyes the size of saucers.

"Hi," Linka said nervously.

"H-Hi," Kyle replied. "You...you look wonderful."

Linka's cheeks burned. "Do you really think so?" she asked coyly.

Kyle nodded dumbly. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Linka giggled and Kyle grinned. "I, uh, I got you something." He held out a corsage, white flowers with a pink tinge and a pink satin ribbon.

"It's beautiful," she marveled.

"Like you," he said. She held out her wrist, and he tied it around, his fingers trembling with nerves. "Do you wanna dance?"

Linka smiled. "I'd love to."

Together they walked out onto the dance floor just as the current song ended and the band struck up a slow, beautiful tune. Kyle tentatively put his hands on her hips, which made her stomach flutter and her heart race, and she put her arms around his neck; they began to sway lightly to the music as couples danced slowly around them.

"I don't know if you noticed," Kyle said, "but I'm really nervous." He tittered.

Linka nodded. "Me too."

"You know, I, uh, I really like you. A lot. You have a way of lighting up the room and...I-I really like that."

Linka's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She gazed into his blue eyes and for a moment she could have believed the earth moved. "I like you too," she said. "A lot."

He grinned. "That makes me happy. You're really awesome."

"So are you." She laid the side of her head against his chest and smiled like a satisfied cat. The sound of his heart filled her, a steady, soothing rhythm. Kyle rested his chin on the top of her head, and she took a deep breath, his warm scent filling her nostrils and making her weak. Together they swayed, the world receding until only the two of them existed. The song ended and another began, this one faster and more up-tempo, but still they moved slowly, unwilling to break their embrace.

Linka didn't know how many songs started and ended, or how much time passed, and she didn't care. She was happy, totally and completely in _bliss,_ and the world could have caught fire around her and she wouldn't have noticed. When she looked up at Kyle, their eyes locking, her heart jumped for joy and she smiled goofily.

For a moment they simply stared into each other's eyes, a thought, a feeling, a moment passing between them. They leaned in together, the tips of their noses brushing, and their lips met with an electric jolt, his tongue flicking bashfully into her mouth. She shuddered in delight as she kissed him back, her arms tightening around his neck. He deepened the kiss, and their tongues moved tenderly against each other. Blood crashed in Linka's temples and her heart blasted against her ribs, but in a good way, a sweet way.

When the kiss broke, she giggled. "That was nice."

"Very nice," Kyle said.

She rested her head against his chest once more. Their hearts beat in time.

"I guess this means you're my girlfriend?"

"Hmmm. If you want me to be."

"I do," he said quickly.

"Then I'm your girlfriend."

Kyle kissed the top of her head. "Good."

* * *

Friday evening. Linka stood on the curb in front of the Loud house, a single bag clutched in her hands. Lincoln stood next to her, his hands in his pockets. Their parents chatted, her father leaning against the BMW with his arms crossed and Lincoln's father with his hands on his hips. Their body language was easy and bespoke comfort: Given the way they started off on the wrong foot (with both couples vying for her _and_ Lincoln, and only getting one each), Linka was especially glad they got along.

"Are you nervous?" Lincoln asked.

Linka nodded. "A little." She was actually more than a little nervous. Meeting so many people at once was intimidating in of itself, but these weren't just people, they were Lincoln's other sisters. It was vitally important that she get along with them and that they like her.

Lincoln playfully nudged her arm with his elbow. "Don't be. They're really great. A little rough around the edges sometimes, but overall they're awesome. You should know they're lined up by the door waiting to meet you."

"Oh," Linka said, "that's...that's cool."

Lincoln laughed. "Really, don't sweat it. How was the dance?"

A hazy smile broke across Linka's face. "It was very nice," she said.

"You and him are...official?"

She nodded. "Yeah. We're together."

Lincoln smiled widely. "Good. He seems like a cool dude, and you're happy, so I'm glad for you."

"Thanks."

Before they left, her parents both hugged her; her mother peppered her face with kisses. Unlike Lincoln, Linka had slept over at friends' houses, but never for as long as she would be in Royal Woods. "We'll miss you, honey."

"Have a good time," her father said, and kissed her forehead. He looked at Lincoln. "Make sure you keep an eye on her, young man. In case that laser tag incident didn't clue you in, she's ruthless."

"I will, Mr. Randall," Lincoln grinned.

While Lincoln took Linka's bag and escorted her to the front door, Todd said, "As I told Lincoln, keep an eye out for Linka. Did he tell you about the massacre last week?"

Lynn and Rita both laughed. "He mentioned something about Linka beating everyone at laser tag," Rita said.

"She did more than that," Todd said, "Lincoln tripped and she shot him while he was down, then when I pointed out how wrong that was, she shot me, _then_ she shot her own teammate for the hell of it." He laughed. "We really enjoyed having Lincoln over, is what I'm saying."

At the door, Lincoln hefted Linka's bag over his shoulder and turned the knob. Linka took a deep breath and followed him inside. Sure enough, a single-file line of girls greeted her, the first being Lori, she presumed, who was the oldest.

Before Linka could introduce herself, Lori swept her into a hug and squeezed her tight. "You literally have _no_ idea how long I've been waiting to do that," Lori said. She let go and drew back. "I'm Lori and I'm your awesome oldest sister. I'm _much_ better than the losers behind me."

"Hey!" everyone else said in unison.

Lori winked. "Okay, not _much_ better. Just a little."

She stepped aside and another blonde took her place. She wore an aquamarine dress with a white fringe and white sunglasses on her head. She fisted her hands in excitement. "Girl Lincy!" She hugged Linka just as her sister had done.

"That's Leni," Lincoln said, "she's...well, you'll see."

Next came a girl with short brown hair wearing a purple skirt. "Hey, sis," she said, and put her arms around Linka. "I'm Luna. I hear you shred a mean violin."

"I-I'm okay, I guess," Linka said.

"Rad," Luna said. "I play a bunch of instruments too. You wanna learn guitar? I can totally teach you!"

"That sounds fun."

Luna stepped aside, and a girl with braces and a ponytail came forward, her hand outstretched. "I'm Luan," she said. Linka reached for her hand, but Lincoln pushed it away and looked at Luan, his brow arched.

"What?" she asked innocently.

Lincoln held out his hand, palm facing up. "Come on, Linc, you don't really think I'd...?"

Lincoln tapped his foot impatiently.

Bowing her head, Luan slipped a ring off of her middle finger and dropped it into Lincoln's hand. Lori folded her arms and glared at her younger sister. "Really, Luan? A joy buzzer? Didn't we have a meeting literally an hour ago about being on our best behavior?"

"Sorry," Luan said, "I was just trying to break the ice."

Linka looked at Lincoln. "Your sister was going to use that on me? I have to say, I'm shocked."

Luan looked up, a grin spreading across her face. "Hey, not bad! I heard a lot of _buzz_ about you, but nothing about humor."

Shrugging, Linka said, "I watch Comedy Central sometimes. I like to stay _current._ "

Luan barked laughter and slapped her knee. "You're good. We gotta hang. I have a great idea for a prank we can pull on the neighbor. It'll have him _seeing double!_ "

A girl with her chestnut hair in a ponytail pushed Luan out of the way. "Alright, chuckles, you've had your turn." She beamed at Linka and stuck out her hand. "I'm Lynn. Do you like sports?"

Linka shook Lynn's hand. "I play tennis with my parents sometimes," she said.

Lynn stroked her chin then shrugged. "Better than nothing. I have a ball and some rackets around here somewhere. I'll dig 'em up and we can play." The rest of her sisters looked at her, and she smiled sheepishly. "If you want to, I mean. You don't have to or anything. Figured you might want to."

"Sure, we can play."

A little girl with black hair and bangs in her eyes came next. Lincoln told Linka about Lucy, just as he had all of his other sisters...which is why Linka was mildly surprised when Lucy hugged her just as the others had. "Lincoln says you like Edgar Allen Poe," she said.

"Yeah, he wrote my favorite poem," Linka said.

"Which one?" Lucy asked.

" _Alone_."

"I like that one too." She leaned in and whispered in Linka's ear. "Don't tell anyone, but I like _The Bells_ better."

"That's a good one," Linka said.

"Yeah, but it's not very morbid." She glanced at her sisters and added lowly: "Even I need a break from the darkness here and there."

Next came a little girl in a pink dress. She wore a tiara. "Hello, dear, I'm Lola," she said and leaned in to kiss each other of Linka's cheeks. _She'd fit right in at Ridgewood,_ Linka thought, _or Milton. Probably Milton._ "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," Linka said.

Lana was next. She was just as Lincoln described her: A total tomboy. She was cute, though, with her pigtails and little baseball cap. "Hi, I'm Lana, and I'm the better twin." She winked at Lola. "It's pretty cool you and Lincoln and twins too. You guys look more alike than me and Lola. It's almost like you're really him from an alternate universe where he's a girl and has a bunch of brothers instead of sisters or something."

Linka blinked. Not only was she a mechanic, she had a good imagination.

"That's the most preposterous thing I've ever heard," someone lisped from behind Lana, and the little girl turned to her little sister. "No it's not."

"Yes, it is," Lisa said. "The multiverse theory is so riddled with flaws that even the simplest of simpletons can clearly see that it holds no water whatsoever." She brushed past Lana. "I apologize for my sister's ig –"

Linka couldn't stop herself; she pulled the little girl in and hugged her tightly. "Thank you," she said.

"...For?"

"For giving me a brother."

Lisa didn't speak for a moment. "I suppose I am indirectly responsible for yours and Lincoln's reunion."

Finally, Lilly toddled up and fell on her butt in front of Linka. Looking up, she smiled. "Poo-poo."

Linka's heart melted. "Awww, she's adorable. Is that the only word she can say?"

Lori rubbed the back of her neck. "Well...there _is_ another one, but hopefully she forgot it."

Lilly cocked her head. "Bitch."

Everyone burst out laughing, including Linka. Everyone except for Lori, that is. It was her fault Lilly knew that word, after all, and if Mom and Dad heard, they would _freak_.

While Lincoln's sisters dispersed (Lucy, Luan, Leni, Lori, and Lilly to the couch, Lynn upstairs to look for her tennis ball and rackets, Luna to the kitchen, and Lisa, Lana, and Lola to their rooms), Lincoln put his arm around Linka's shoulders. "So...how do you like your new family?"

Linka blinked back tears. "I'm really happy right now."

"Good," Lincoln said. He hefted her bag, and then poked her in the back. "Tag, you're it!"

He ran for the stairs, with his sister in hot pursuit.

* * *

Linka sat on cross-legged on Lucy's bed and listened as the little girl read one of her poems. It was really good, but really dark. "I can see Poe's influence," Linka said when the girl was done, "and it's good, but I think it would flow much better if you switched the third and fourth stanzas."

Lucy looked down at the notebook and silently read to herself. "Gasp. You're right. It would work _much_ better." She flipped a page. "How about this?" She started to read:

" _Burned bodies lying on frozen ground_

 _Pieces of flaming wreckage strewn all around_

 _The NTSB is at a loss for what to do_

 _That plane just crashed out of the blue."_

Call her morbid, but Linka laughed deeply. It was dark, yes, but something struck her as funny; she inferred from the tiny grin on Lucy's face that that was intentional. "I shouldn't laugh, but that's hilarious."

"Wicked," Lucy said.

* * *

Lana knelt beside the pink plastic princess Jeep and slapped the hood. "Do you know what this is?" she asked Linka, who was standing aside and watching nervously.

"No," Linka said.

They were in the shed, surrounded by boxes of holiday decorations, gardening tools, and miscellaneous junk.

Lana nodded. "Well, this here is your classic hunk of junk." She flipped the metal mask over her face, muffling her voice. "The hemi I'm adding will make it run _much_ smoother." She turned a knob on a metal tank and picked up the blow torch.

"Uh, Lana?"

"Yeah?" Lana asked over her shoulder.

"Are you sure you should be using that?"

"Absolutely."

"Uh...on plastic?"

But Lana had turned away. She touched the flame to the Jeep's engine block...and it immediately began to melt, the acrid smell of burning plastic filling the air. Lana threw the torch aside and flipped the mask up. "Uh-oh."

A tiny blue flame licked the bubbling plastic. Lana swatted it with her gloved hand...and suddenly the glove was on fire. Linka squealed and jumped back. Lana cried out and flung the glove off. "Stupid damn glove!" she roared. "Probably made in China. Can't trust those commies as far as you can throw them!" The glove landed on a pile of rags, which went up like Christmas morning. The little girl's face paled.

Linka looked panickedly around, and spotted a fire extinguisher on the workbench. She grabbed it, yanked the pin out, and pointed the nozzle at the blossoming fire, depressing the lever and spraying it with thick white foam.

When the fire was out, Linka dropped the fire extinguisher and fought to catch her breath; her heart was racing.

"Uh...thanks, Link," Lana said and rubbed the back of her neck, "that, uh, probably wasn't my best idea." She looked at the Jeep. "Man, Lola's gonna be pissed." She got up and shoved it under a table, then dusted her hands off. "Oh, well. Outta sight, outta mind! Come on, I'll show you how to use a table saw."

Linka gulped.

* * *

"Ahhh...after hanging out with Lana, this is nice," Linka said.

"Stick with me, kid," Lola said, "unlike my sister, _I_ know how to live."

They were sitting side-by-side in comfy chairs in Lana and Lola's room, their heads reclined and their feet out. They were both dressed in white robes and had white towels wrapped around their heads. Cucumber slices covered two sets of eyes.

Leni knelt before Linka, applying pink polish to her toenails after the _best_ pedicure ever. "Thanks, Leni," Linka said, "you're great."

"Eh," Lola said, "she's not the best, but she'll do in a pinch."

Lola cried out when Leni pinched her. She raised her head and lifted one of the cucumber slices. Linka did likewise. " _What_ are you doing?" Lola asked.

Leni shrugged. "You said I would do a pinch."

Lola sighed and shook her head, returning the cucumber slice. "You can be such a ditz sometimes."

"Sorry," Leni said, and winked at Linka. Linka grinned and winked back.

* * *

"Alright," Luan said, "Lincoln, go over there. Linka, go over there."

They were in the backyard. It was early Saturday afternoon and sunny. Luan wore a black beret like an old timey Hollywood director and sat in a director's chair with her name across the back. Her legs were crossed, her skirt stopping just short of one knobby knee. Lincoln went over to one end of the wood stockade fence, and Linka went over to the other. "Okay, Linc," Luan said, "action."

Lincoln climbed onto the fence and poked his head over the top while Linka got into position. Mr. Grouse sat on his back porch with another man talking and laughing. "Hell, Harry, you know Pete's a lousy card player."

When he saw Lincoln staring at him over the top of the fence, his smile died. "Get outta here, Loud, this doesn't concern you."

Lincoln ducked down, and a split second later Linka popped up _waaaay_ on the other end. Harry gasped and leapt out of his chair. _"That's the fastest kid I've ever seen!"_

Luan erupted in laughter, throwing herself back: With a cry, the chair tipped over and she spilled onto the ground. Lincoln fell off the fence laughing, and Linka didn't fare much better, dropping off and landing on her knees as tears of laughter streamed down her face.

"You saw that, right?" Harry cried. "Kid's like the goddamn Flash!"

Luan, Lincoln, and Linka laughed even harder, Luan holding her stomach and rolling back and forth, Lincoln pounding the ground, and Linka shaking her head. In the other yard, Mr. Grouse fought to calm his friend. "Thanks a lot, Loud!" he called, "you made Harry shit himself!"

* * *

Lincoln was right: Waiting in line to pee _stank_. During lunch, she, Lynn, and Lincoln somehow wound up in an apple juice drinking contest. She won, and the prize was a bladder that filled as soon as she emptied it. Standing behind Lucy, she pressed her hands between her legs and danced back and forth. "Lincoln does the same thing every morning," Lucy said. "You can go ahead of me."

The door opened and Lynn came out. "That apple juice is no joke," she said, then cried out when Linka shoved her aside and streaked into the bathroom. She pulled up her skirt, yanked down her underwear, and sat, sighing in relief as she peed.

Whew. Almost didn't make it.

 _That_ would be embarrassing.

She got up, flushed, and washed her hands. In the hall, Lucy was waiting. "Thanks, Luce," Linka said, "I _really_ had to go."

"No problem," Lucy said, "I've been..." she trailed off as Lisa came into the hall holding a beaker filled with green, fizzling liquid. Her steps were slow, careful.

"No one make any sudden moves," Lisa said, "this mixture is highly unstable and may..."

Lynn somersaulted out of her room and crashed into Lisa: The beaker fell out of her hands and dropped in slow motion. "No!" Lisa cried, and tried to save it. Her fingers just missed...it hit the floor and exploded, filling the hall with sulfurous smoke and knocking pictures from the wall. When the haze cleared, Lisa stood in the middle of the floor, her head back and an annoyed look on her face. Lynn looked sheepishly up from the floor. "Sorry."

"Lisa!" Mr. Loud called up the stairs, "you are grounded for the rest of the day!"

Lisa shot her older sister a withering look. Lynn laughed nervously.

"Alright," Linka said to Lucy, "your turn."

Lucy sighed and bowed her head. "I already went."

* * *

Lynn set up a makeshift net in the backyard and drafted Lincoln to act as referee; the rest of the sisters gathered on the back porch to watch as Lynn tossed the ball into the air and served it overhand. Linka ducked to the side and swung her racket, returning the ball to Lynn, who hit it back.

The game went on like this for nearly ten minutes, the Loud girls turning their heads back and forth with each serve. Finally, Linka hit the ball, and Lynn missed. "Point to Linka," Lincoln said.

Lynn grabbed the ball, tossed it up, and hit it as hard as she could; Linka hit it backhand, and Lynn jumped up and lashed out in panic. The ball hit the net and she groaned. "Point to –"

"We know where the point went!" Lynn said. She was getting nervous. They were playing to three, and she was two behind. If she didn't get her head in the game, her ass was grass. She snatched the ball up and served it. Linka swung, but missed, and it rolled into a bush.

"Point to Lynn," Lincoln said.

"I'm coming to get you, Linka," Lynn said playfully.

"You better come hard," Linka said, swatting the ball back.

"Oh, I will," Lynn replied, returning it.

They did this for a long time, going faster and faster until the ball was a blur and both girls were practically running back and forth to hit it. "I'm starting to get dizzy," Lori said, and turned to Leni: The younger girl's head swayed back and forth and a long, silvery strand of drool hung from her bottom lip. Lori sighed and snapped her finger in front of Leni's face to no avail. "I'll get the smelling salts," Lisa said and got up.

On the 'court,' Lynn struck the ball, sending it high. Ha. Linka would _never..._

Linka leapt into the air, spiked it, and sent it back. Lynn lifted her racket, but it was too late...the ball sailed past her.

"Point to Linka," Lincoln said, "game, set, match."

Everyone clapped and cheered, except for Lynn, who dropped limply to her knees, bowed her head, and punched the ground. She took three deep breaths, then looked up, a smile on her face, the momentary sting of losing having passed. "You're pretty good," she said, and got to her feet. "You say you play _sometimes_?"

Linka rested the racket against her shoulder. "Yeah," she chirped, "sometimes."

* * *

After a spirited game of tennis, a walk in the park sounded lovely. Lincoln led the way, pointing out all the places he hung out as they passed. The arcade, the pizza place, the Tast-E-Freez (she made him stop so they could get ice cream...ice cream was probably the only thing she liked in the world more than tag). He had a mint chocolate chip cone, and she had frozen custard...which was probably the only thing she liked more than ice cream. Well...not counting her family, but family isn't food...unless you're _reaaaally_ hungry.

"Royal Woods in kind of a dump," Lincoln said as they crossed the street to the park. Linka saw a baseball diamond and soccer goals.

She shrugged. "I think it's okay." She elbowed him in the ribs. "You're here, after all, so it can't be _too_ bad."

They stopped at one of the soccer goals to finish their ice cream. Cars ambled lazily by in the street. As she licked custard from her spoon, she spotted a black panel van with FREE CANDY painted across the side. "Uhh, Linc?"

"Yeah?" he asked and took a bite of his cone.

"Do you see the molester mobile?" she pointed, and Lincoln followed her finger. When he saw the van, he _hmmmed_. "Should we be afraid?"

Lincoln shook his head. "Nah. After five minutes of dealing with you, they'd let us go."

She gasped and flicked his cowlick. "I would have punched your arm but I didn't want to make you drop your ice cream."

Lincoln nodded. "Thanks, sis." He finished his cone and blotted his hands on his jeans. "Ronnie Anne should be here soon." He checked his phone, but didn't have any unread texts. He put his hands on his hips and stretched his back; it clicked with an auidlble pop.

"You're worse than my dad," Linka said, licking her spoon and squinting into the cup. Sugar, honey, ice tea, all gone. She looked around for a trash can, and spotted a girl with black hair walking toward them past the baseball diamond, her hands in the pocket of her purple hoodie. "That her?"

Lincoln turned. "Yeah, that's her," he said with a little grin.

Linka wouldn't say so because she didn't want to sound like a worrywart, but she was kind of nervous. Lincoln had told her all about Ronnie Anne and how 'tough' she was; it was kind of intimidating.

Ronnie Anne looked up, saw them, and came over, walking right up to Linka and looking her in the face, which made Linka uncomfortable. After a moment, she turned to Lincoln...then back to Linka. "You two really _are_ identical," she said. "Your brother's hotter though."

Lincoln chuckled. "That's what her boyfriend said."

Ronnie Anne looked at him and lifted a brow.

"I mean he said she was hotter than me," he quickly added.

Shaking her head slowly, Ronnie Anne said, "Now I have to worry about losing you to dudes too. Sometimes I don't think you're worth the trouble."

Lincoln put his hands on his hips, and she grinned. "Only sometimes." She stepped into his arms and he hugged her tight. Linka stood awkwardly off to the side; she was beginning to understand how Lincoln felt last weekend.

"So," Ronnie Anne said as she pulled away from Lincoln, "you guys wanna play a game or something?"

Lincoln started to speak, but Linka cut him off, "Sure, and I have the perfect game!"

 _Tag,_ Lincoln thought – then cried out when Linka's fist crashed into his arm. "Ford!"

Ronnie Anne snickered as Lincoln rubbed his arm. She glanced at the street, and turned. "Don't look now, lame-o, but here comes an Altima." She socked him as hard as she could in the other arm, and he staggered back.

Linka giggled. "Bicycle!"

Boom.

"Pedestrian!" Ronnie Anne cried.

Boom.

"Tree!"

Boom.

"Blade of grass!"

Boom.

That last one knocked Lincoln on his butt. His arms were throbbing and he was hissing in pain. Linka and Ronnie Anne threw their arms around each other's shoulders and laughed at him, tears sliding down their cheeks. "I like this game," Ronnie Anne said.

"Yeah?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah, you should..."

He shot forward, grabbed each girl by an ankle, and yanked: They went down with sharp cries of alarm, landing hard on their butts just as he had. For a moment none of them spoke...then they all broke out laughing.

"I oughta kick your ass for that," Ronnie Anne said, and got to her feet. Linka stood as well and brushed her butt off. Both girls held out their hands and helped Lincoln up.

He let go, looked at his sister and then his girlfriend...and poked Ronnie Anne as hard in the chest as he could. "Tag, you're it!"

"I _love_ this game!" Linka cried excitedly, and started to run. Ronnie watched her boyfriend and his sister fleeing in separate directions. Who should she go after? She decided on Lincoln simply because the spot where he poked her stung. When she caught up to him ten minutes later, she tagged him by kicking one of his feet out from under him.

"You're it now, lame-o," she said. He got up and gave chase, but she was too fast, so he went off in search of Linka, spotting her hiding behind a tree. When she saw him, she screamed and took off, weaving in and out of trees. He followed, but she managed to give him the slip. He walked through the stand of forest, looking this way and that. Hm. She was slippery, he'd give her that.

He turned to leave, figuring she had bested him, when she dropped out of a tree and fell on him, knocking him to his knees. "Ow!" she cried as she rolled onto her stomach. "I wasn't supposed to get hurt...you were."

"I did," Lincoln said, getting to his feet and rubbing his knee. "You're it, by the way."

"Uh-uh. You didn't touch me. I touched _you_."

She brushed past him and ran to the edge of the forest. "Can't get me!"

Lincoln went after her, and she ran, disappearing from view. Whew. Playing with these two girls was going to kill him. He reached the edge of the forest, but someone grabbed him and yanked him behind a tree. Before he knew what was happening, Ronnie Anne was kissing him deeply, her fingers raking through his hair. He took her face in his hands and kissed her back.

"Thanks," she grinned when the kiss broke, "I needed that."

"Me too," Lincoln said, and kissed the tip of her nose. "You know what this means, right?"

She tilted her head. "What?"

"You're it," he said, and ran away.

* * *

Linka held the guitar the way Luna showed her and strummed it, producing a high, melodic sound. "Yeah, like that," Luna said. They were sitting across from each other on Luna's bed, Linka with her legs under her and Luna Indian style.

They had been here for nearly two hours, and Linka was starting to think she was getting the hang of the instrument. She was used to holding strings down with the fingers on her left hand, but the neck on a guitar was so _wide_. It was strange.

"You're doing great," Luna said. "Remember that song I showed you?"

Linka nodded. "Yeah."

"Think you can play it?"

Linka worked her fingers along the neck and plucked the strings with the pic, stumbling through the opening of "Crazy Train."

Luna nodded. "Yeah, that's good."

As she played, Linka's confidence increased, her fingers becoming surer, her strokes faster. Luna bobbed her head. "Man, you're catching on quick, keep it up!" Linka's pic hand was flying along the strings now, the music filling her, only instead of transporting her to a peaceful meadow the way violin music did, this music made her want to _rock_.

Luna jumped up and made a devil horn sign with both hands, her head banging and her tongue hanging out. Linka got to her feet and stood on the bed, throwing her head forward and backwards, her hair flying wildly. Lori walked by in the hall, then backed up and watched, her brow cocked. "Another good girl corrupted by that devil music," she said with a _tsk_.

Luna jumped into the air, pumped her fist, and then started shredding an imagery guitar. "What's that infernal racket?" Lisa asked, walking up. "Ah, I see Luna's gotten to Linka."

"Yep," Lori said.

"I hear Ozzy," Lucy said from behind Lori; Lori jumped. "I like Ozzy, he's dark."

Linka knelt, her eyes closed and her teeth bared, then she jumped up, bending her knees in mid-air and letting out an energetic, "Yeah!"

Luna slammed her air guitar against the nightstand and then kicked it, tipping it over with a crash. Lori rolled her eyes, Lisa shook her head, and Lucy grinned. Luna opened her eyes and hissed. "Uh-oh. Got too into the music again."

* * *

Sunday evening, Lincoln walked Linka to her parents' car, her bag over his shoulder. Before going out the door, each of their sisters took their sweet time saying goodbye.

"I had _so_ much fun this weekend," she prattled, "our sisters rock!"

Lincoln laughed. "Yes, they do."

As they walked up, Linka's father rolled down the window. "I can already tell _you_ had a good weekend," he said.

"I had an _awesome_ weekend," Linka said, and started to play an air guitar. Lincoln wondered sardonically if Luna gave it to her or if she stole it.

Her father laughed. "I'm glad."

Linka threw away her guitar and wrapped her arms around Lincoln, squeezing him tight. "I love you, bro," she said.

Lincoln smiled and hugged her back. "I love you too, sis. Text me."

"I will."

He opened the back door and sat her bag on the seat. She kissed him on the cheek and climbed in.

"How did she do, Linc?" her father asked.

"Good," Lincoln said, "she fit right in."

"I'm glad to hear that," he grinned. "Tell your parents we said hi."

"I will, Mr. Randall. Have a safe drive."

Linka's father nodded, and rolled his window up. As the car took off, Linka rolled her window down and shot him the devil horns. "Rock and roll!" she cried.

Lincoln shook his head and waved. _I've created a monster,_ he thought as he walked back into the house.

"So you had fun?" Linka's mother asked in the car.

"I had a _lot_ of fun. I wanna come back next weekend! Please?"

Her parents looked at each other and laughed. "We'll talk to Lynn and Rita," her father said into the rearview mirror.

To make a long story short, Linka went back the following weekend.

And the weekend after that.

And the weekend after that.

And the weekend after that...

* * *

 **This is the end, my friends...but only kind of. See, I feel there are other tales to tell involving Linka and the Louds, but they just won't fit into the narrative framework of the story, so I will be turning this into a series of oneshots. I have a few ideas for future stories, so stay tuned. I am debating what story I should post next: A Nightmare of Loud Street Part 2 (horror crossover), Siblings with Benefits (uh, the title should clue you in) or Reeling in the Years (AU where Lincoln and his family lives through the fifties, sixties, seventies, etc). Any preference, guys?**


	21. Sweet Fruit in a High Tree

**I originally started this oneshot in January 2018. I got the flu and it developed into pneumonia, so I sat this aside and didn't write for a while. When I came back, I planned to finish it, but I got caught up in other projects. The other night, I was going through my files when I came across it and decided to dust it off and finally put it out. Here, then, is the first** _ **Thicker Than Blood**_ **oneshot. I can't tell you when I'll write the next one; I** _ **do**_ **have an idea I want to eventually try, however.**

Clyde McBride shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed his shoe along the ground. Next to him, Lincoln crossed his arms and leaned back against the cold metal frame of the swing set, his eyes rolling up to the sky in annoyance. It was a warm spring day, and they had been waiting for Linka for nearly an hour; Lincoln said she was spending 'girl time' with Lori, Leni, and Lola, and that it would probably be a while before she showed up. Neither one expected it to take this long, though.

Clyde drew a deep breath and glanced toward the street bordering the park just as a sedan pulled onto it from a side street. Truth be told, he was a little apprehensive about meeting Linka - new people always put him on edge. And truth be told again, as he watched the sedan slowly creep by, he felt something beneath that nervousness: Jealousy.

Lincoln was the best friend a guy could ask for - loyal, considerate, willing to give you the shirt off his back - but there were times Clyde envied the SOB so hard it hurt.

At first, it was because Lincoln had a loving biological family. Clyde loved his Dads, but there's something about blood that no one - not even two people as wonderful as Howard and Harold - could replace. And his sisters! Clyde desperately wanted a sibling, a little boy or girl to teach and play with and love, a little boy or girl who would keep him from being so lonely he wanted to cry. Lincoln didn't have that problem...he had ten sisters; younger ones to teach and look out for, and older ones to teach and look out for him. When he went to Lincoln's house, Clyde could feel the love they shared...he could also feel the energy and vitality of life. His own house was as quiet as a museum, and as perfectly poised as one too. At the Loud house, however, there was always noise...always activity...always clothes or toys on the floor...always signs that this was a real, honest to God home where people lived.

Then it came out that Lincoln was adopted.

Clyde never saw that coming, and it did change how he looked at Lincoln's family...temporarily. He still had ten great sisters each with their own endearing quirks...but more than that, he had a biological sister in Linka.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder why Lincoln was so lucky.

Presently, he glanced at his friend, his eyes studying the boy's fair, delicate features. Not only was Linka his biological sister...she was his twin. Twins, or so Clyde had read, share a special bond that transcends things like whether or not they grew up together, a deep ONENESS that Clyde himself could only fantasize about.

He would give almost anything for a twin.

"Here she comes," Lincoln said, rousing him from his thoughts. Linka was approaching across the grass between the playground and the street, wearing a skirt and an orange polo shirt similar to Lincoln's. "She likes it when we match," Lincoln explained, but Clyde did not hear him: His eyes were fixed on the girl's face, so much like Lincoln's but not identical. Her snowy white hair cascaded over her shoulders like silk, her cowlick rustling with the movement of her legs. Her soft brown eyes simmered with happy light, and her mouth turned up at the corners when she saw Lincoln. She waved excitedly, and Lincoln waved back.

No...she was not one hundred percent identical to her brother, but she was close enough.

And she was beautiful.

"Hi, Linc!" she said as she bounced up. She drew her fist back and punched him in the arm.

Clyde realized he was gaping and snapped his mouth closed.

"As if I don't get enough of that from Lynn and Ronnie Anne," Lincoln said and rubbed the spot she hit.

Linka shrugged. "I'm only here on the weekends, so I have to get in on the fun or miss out." She turned to Clyde, and when those sparkling eyes fell upon him, his heart stopped dead in his chest: If this were a cartoon, he'd probably start bleeding from the nose and malfunctioning like a robot. Instead, he swallowed hard. "You must be Clyde," she chirruped confidently.

Who? Me? "Uh...y-yeah," he forced, and then flashed a nervous grin. "And I guess you're Linka."

"That's me!"

Lincoln pulled a piece of gum out of his pants pocket and tossed it into his mouth. "You're kind of late," he said without any trace of accusation. He was simply stating a fact.

"Yeah," Linka said with a sheepish smile, "girl time ran over. Sorry. Lola really takes her facials seriously."

They were walking toward the footpath now, a narrow ribbon of smooth dirt twisting like a snake into a stand of pine trees, Linka in the middle. Clyde stared straight ahead, his breathing shallow and his entire body tingling with self consciousness. An angel, a literal angel, was beside him...

An angel who already had a boyfriend, because of course she did...how could a girl that beautiful not have one?

An angel...who looked (almost) just like his best friend.

That gave him pause. He stole a glance at her face from the corner of his eye: Not identical, but he could see Lincoln in her features as clear as day. Logically, if he kissed her...it would be like kissing his best friend.

But she was beautiful!

Yeah...and she's basically a carbon copy of Lincoln. Therefore you must think he's beautiful too.

He blinked.

Was he gay?

Or bi?

When Linka backhanded his arm, he jumped. "Lincoln says you're adopted too," she said.

Clyde nodded. "Uh...yeah, yeah I'm adopted." He didn't know what else to say, but he felt like he couldn't leave it at that. "I knew up front though, so it's kind of a different experience."

"When were you adopted?" she asked curiously. They were on the path now, Clyde stepping aside to allow a bicyclist past; his arm brushed Linka's, and he suffered a mini heart attack.

"Seven," he said, "I was seven. I lived in an orphanage before that."

"Oh," Linka said heavily, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Clyde said, his heart twisting at the sad note in her voice. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." He offered a stiff, disarming laugh, for her benefit. Don't worry your pretty little head about me, it said, I'm right as rain.

It would be a lie to say that the years he spent in the orphanage - lonely, bullied, unloved and merely tolerated by the staff - did not affect him, but that was in the past. He had two loving parents, a stable home, and more than he could ever have imagined, thus, to him, he was fortunate. One who has tasted the bitter sting of adversity is better equipped to appreciate the positives in life. He knew rejection - passed over time and again by the couples who came to adopt, like prospective car buyers in a showroom - and that made Harold and Howard's love and acceptance all the sweeter.

He said as much, and Linka nodded. On her other side, Lincoln moseyed along with his arms folded and his head ducked. Tall pines crowded the edges of the path, their boughs rustling quietly in the warm breeze. Sunlight filtered through their tops and dappled the path with swaying puddles of brilliant illumination. A strand of snow white hair blew in Linka's face, and she tucked it behind her ear with long, slender fingers. Her wrist was narrow and delicate, her nails a glossy shade of muted pink. Clyde's throat closed as he studied her profile; her pert, slightly upturned nose; her muddled brown eyes, glowing like lamps in the dark; her pouty pink lips; the smattering of freckles swirling across her creamy cheeks; her graceful throat. Her creamy flesh, like silk, yearned to be kissed and caressed, and her hands to be held and squeezed.

Clyde realized he was shaking, and forced his gaze away. The path curved to the left. A splintered wooden bridge shedding ancient red paint carried it over a dry creek bed strewn with moss coated rocks and branches knocked from their perches by summer storms. A pulsating ball of emotion formed in the center of Clyde's chest, and he swallowed around a lump blocking his throat. His stomach tingled unpleasantly, and a headache was beginning to form behind his left eye.

She has a boyfriend, he reminded himself. She's taken. Move along.

Only that didn't matter. Her relationship status might prevent him from making a move, but it wouldn't prevent him from noticing how lovely she was, or from thinking about her, speaking her name when he was alone, tormenting himself with visions and fantasies of her the way he once did with Lori. Last year, he became nearly obsessed with Lincoln's older sister, and before long, daydreaming of her went from something he enjoyed to something he dreaded, for there was no respite; she haunted his every waking thought until he was ready to tear out tufts of his hair and scream unto heaven.

A cold breath of horror puffed through him when he realized he might do the same thing with Linka. He didn't want to go through that again, didn't want to pine himself sick, to allow pressure to build and build in his heart only to never relieve it.

The wooden planks made clunking sounds under their feet. The decaying railings were crisscrossed with graffiti carved deep into weathered wood: Names, dates, cuss words, crude drawings. Off to their left, a few boys picked their way through the rocky trench while another made carefully climbed down the hill sloping to its bank. "What happened to your parents?" Linka asked, her voice finding Clyde's ears like the sweetest melody. "If you don't mind me asking," she hastened to add.

"They died," Clyde said. In actuality, they were (probably) still alive somewhere. Growing up in the orphanage, he knew nothing about them, knew nothing, in fact, about anything beyond those stone walls. To him, life was tile floors, dormitories, harried and overworked shift staff, and a deep sense of disquiet, as though he knew, on some spiritual level, that his lot was not natural. After Harold and Howard adopted him, he asked to look at his paperwork - all the forms, files, and dispositions that constituted his backstory. They reluctantly let him, and he discovered that his mother was a prostitute with a rap sheet longer than _War and Peace_ and gave him up when he was one. He knew nothing of his father. Sometimes that bothered him, other times it didn't.

He was too ashamed to tell anyone the truth, so when they asked, even Lincoln, he told them his parents were killed in a car accident. It was easier that way.

"I'm sorry," Linka said. "We don't know very much about our parents either. Our mom was abusive and our dad went to jail for shooting someone."

Clyde nodded as though he were hearing this for the first time. He was not. Lincoln told him, and while he pitied Lincoln, he also envied him. At least he _knew._ To Clyde, the actions and emotions of his mother were a mystery. Did she abuse him? Did she love him? Did she hand him over to the state in the vague hopes that he would be well taken care of...or did she rid herself of him as though he were a pest? He would like to know where he stood with her if nothing else.

The trail left the woods and skirted the southern tip of a duck pond dotted with lily pads. A fat white goose with an orange bill waddled along the muddy apron and Linka cutely squinted her eyes to see it better. "Goose," she said.

"Let's catch it," Lincoln said.

"And do what with it?" Linka asked, a challenge in her voice.

"Eat it."

"Yuck!" she cried and shoved him. "We have to cook it first."

"That means starting a fire."

"Start one," she said.

"Fresh out of matches, sorry. We're gonna have Man Vs Wild it."

Linka's forehead crinked, and Clyde longed to run his thumb adoringly over the creases and ripples of her skin. "What does _that_ mean?"

The pond was falling behind them, as the goose with it. To their right, the trees fell away, and a playground loomed out of the forest like ancient ruins. "You've never seen Man Vs. Wild?" Lincoln asked.

"Nope," Linka said, "is it violent?"

Lincoln hummed thoughtfully. "That depends."

"Do any living creatures get hurt?" Linka clarified.

"Sometimes, yes."

"Eh, not my thing."

Clyde traced the lines of her lithe arms to her tiny knuckles. He saw himself skimming each one with his lips, breathing the clean scent of her skin, and his heart staggered against his ribs. He took a deep, calming breath, but it did little to lessen the weight crushing his chest.

They walked and talked for a little while longer before Clyde found an opening to beg off. His cheeks felt flush and his voice sounded unsteady to his own ears, and as he walked away, he hoped he didn't make himself look like an ass in front of Linka. A thousand different thoughts and sensations roiled through him as he followed narrow side streets home, and when he walked through his front door fifteen minutes later, he felt sapped of energy.

In his room, he closed the door, kicked out of his shoes, and stretched out on the bed. Grayish afternoon light spilled through the window and bathed his haggard face, silvery on the lenses of his glasses. Deafening silence held sway, and in it, he imagined he could still hear Linka's musical voice, light and airy and joyous. A vision of her face floated up from the depths of his mind, taking shape slowly before his eyes like a reflection on water, only the features were not hers, they were Lincoln's. His hair was longer and his lips pinker, like his sister's, but it was undoubtedly him.

He had not known Linka long enough to imprint her face in his brain, had not dared look at her full on after their initial meeting. Therefore, he was trudging up the closest point of reference he had and trying fruitlessly to turn it into her.

A full, cumbersome weight filled his skull, like rocks, and he rubbed his fevered temples with the heels of his palms, as if to massage the thoughts away.

But they remained.

Later on, as the sun sank behind the rooftops and the evenly spaced lamps along the street zapped on one by one, he sat at the dining room table and stared sightlessly down into his dinner, the fork forgotten in his hand. He could barely breathe and his stomach twisted and tangled in a hopeless mess of nerves. Harold and Howard watched him with mild concern. Finally, Harold cleared his throat. "Is something the matter, Clyde?"

Clyde blinked and looked up, the world rushing in. "What?" he asked.

"Is something wrong?" Harold asked again. "You've barely touched your food."

"I'm just not hungry," he said. "Can I be excused?"

Harold and Howard exchanged a worried look, but let him go. He took his plate into the kitchen, cleared it into the trash, then went to his room. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, and the soft electric glow from the lamp cast seething shadows across his face. Linka had a boyfriend. She was also his best friend's sister. Liking her was pointless, futile. Why, then, was he doing it? Why, knowing all of this, did his traitorous brain insist on replaying her voice, her smile, and her shining eyes again and again? She was beyond his reach, but here he was regardless, trapped in a barren, blasted heath where he'd been more times than he could count. With Lori. And Carol Pingrey before her. And Becky before _her_. Each one of those girls had something in common: They were the highest fruit in the tree, always dangling just out of his grasp. Linka was no different.

Revelation, and remembrance, began to bubble up inside of him, but cut out when the door opened and Harold and Howard came in. They sat on either side of him, and he tensed slightly. They knew he was lying, knew that something was wrong, and they were here, in their endless love and mercy, to make him better, or to provide him comfort if they couldn't. He hated showing them his weakness, hating admitting to them that he was not as whole and healthy and he pretended to be. They took him in out of the kindness of their hearts, and already he'd put them through so much. The constant doctor bills alone were enough that Clyde wouldn't blame them for taking him back to the orphanage. They did not, though; they loved and accepted him despite his quirks...despite the nightmares and neverending visits to Dr. Lopez, despite his awkwardness and the occasional bed wetting. They did not yell, they did not strike him, and they did not lock him in a closet like they did at the orphanage. They loved him. Clyde didn't know why, but he was grateful for them, and on some level, worried that one day, he would do something to make them stop...that he would screw up the one good thing in his life like the bumbling oaf he was.

Harold laid one large hand on Clyde's shoulder, and Howard gave his knee an affectionate pat. "What's wrong, Clyde?" Harold asked.

"It's Linka," Clyde admitted. He told them everything, and they listened with a patience and forbearing that never failed to move Clyde. He didn't like talking about girls with his parents (God, what boy does?), but they never judged, never scolded, and once he began to speak, he always felt comfortable and at ease.

When he was finished, Harold sighed and Howard rubbed a tender circle in his knee. "You're doing it again, Clyde," Harold said.

Clyde didn't have to ask what _it_ was, but Harold went on anyway. "You're going after Linka because she's safe."

One thing Clyde held back from Dr. Lopez was the infatuations - first with Becky, then Carol, then Lori. At the lowest point of his obsession with Lori, he broke down and told the psychiatrist. Hitherto, he was afraid she would think less of him, or perhaps even diagnose him as some kind of dangerous maniac. At rock bottom, however, he didn't care. He just wanted it over with.

 _You have a pattern, Clyde,_ the doctor said. _You latch on -_ here she held her hands up and laced her fingers together - _to girls with whom you haven't a single chance because they are unobtainable, and you know, subconsciously, that your feelings will never be reciprocated. That means that they cannot really reject you because you aren't making a serious attempt._

At first, Clyde dismissed the charge, but the more he meditated on it, the more certain he became that she was right. He was well aware that he never stood a chance with Lori or Carol, knew that no matter what he did they would not have him...because they were older, or had boyfriends, or any number of things he could use as excuses to explain why they rejected him.

They were pipe dreams, and pipe dreams can't hurt you.

Clyde nodded grimly to himself. "Why?" he asked more to himself than to his parents. "Why do I do this?"

Neither Howard nor Harold replied. Instead, they put their arms around their son's shoulders and held him close, doing the best they could to silently communicate their love.

Knowing the shape and character of his emotions did not lessen the effects, but, for Clyde, it did offer peace of mind. That night, he lay in bed, waiting to sleep, and repeated again and again _I do not love Linka, I do not love Linka..._

Eventually he slept, and in the morning, his emotions were less.

It would take time, but they would fade.

When Lincoln texted to ask if Clyde wanted to hang out with him and Linka, he lied and said he and his dads were going antiquing. One day, he thought, he would be able to be around Linka, but today just wasn't that day.

So he played video games instead.


End file.
